


Island in the Sun

by Mangacat



Series: Cybernetics-Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Body Modification, Cybernetics, Drugs, Extortion, Gun Violence, Hostage Situations, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reference to body dysphroria due to cybernetic enhancement, Reference to combat injuries, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 06:28:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19740112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mangacat/pseuds/Mangacat
Summary: It’s not your typical meet-cute: Jensen, a nano-cybernetics specialist, saved Jared - mortally injured Afghan war veteran - by replacing and rebuilding several of his limbs and organs with cybernetic nano-technology. After struggling with trauma, the otherness of his body, his new extra-human abilities and a very ambiguous relationship with his saviour, Jared has to go on the run from the US government to keep his life and sanity with only Jensen at his side. Now, still fugitives, they’re trying to carve out a life for themselves without tripping any nets of the military and intelligence, when the greatest threat they’ll be facing actually comes from a wholly unexpected direction…





	Island in the Sun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [candygramme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/candygramme/gifts), [HermineKurotowa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermineKurotowa/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Artmasterpost "Island in the Sun" Spn_J2_BigBang 2019](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/496990) by Bflyw. 



> Disclaimer: I own neither Supernatural nor any rights to the persons of Jared and Jensen (obviously they’re their own persons) and don’t make a claim to its and their creative or economic profit. Just shoveling in the sandbox for a bit, I’ll give them back after playing. Promise.
> 
> A/N: This is for candygramme, who wished for a Roll-the-Dice timestamp for her fandomaid charity contribution and for herminekurotowa who wanted some ‘kidnapped!restrained!hurt!Jensen for the same. And when I sat down I plotted ideas for both fics, it turned out one story would greatly benefit from the other. So I asked them both if they’d agree on a merger and they graciously did, and here we are. I’ve made sure that this one can be read independently too, when I decided to enter it into this year’s big bang as an incentive to actually FINISH this story, but I have no problem at all if you choose to go back and read ‘Roll the Dice’ first, :), just so you know. Also, I should probably mention that since this story took a whopping five odd years to complete, and the geopolitics of South America, Venezuela especially, has blown up like WHOA, that will not feature extensively since according to the original timeline, we’re living this story in 2012. Oh, and there’s a now terribly obscure superhero Easter egg lying around this story, whoever finds it will get cookies (the virtual kind). I’d like to thank my artist ‘bflyw’ for the great banner art, after she incidentally already arted for the first story and of course ‘wendy’ for mounting the challenge as always, since it’s only taken me eight years to participate a second time as a writer. I hope for many more to come!

A bullet ricochets off the wall and a chip of concrete leaves a shallow cut in Jared’s cheek. He squashes a flashback and presses his back more firmly into the wall, flattening the Ecuadorian ambassador next to him while he waits for a lag in the bursts of automatic gunfire around the corner. When there’s a moment of silence, he peeks past the wall and out onto the street where the rest of the ambassador’s security detail is locked in a fierce gun battle around the motorcade with a group of too well-armed assailants.

Jared tightens the grip around his handgun and tries to decide between legging it through the convoluted streets of Caracas with an exposed civilian in tow or trying to get back to the last one of the armoured cars in the convoy and breaking through the backward blockade. He doesn’t get the chance to make a decision one way or another when one of the attackers drops his submachine gun to heft a bazooka on his shoulder and aim right down the street. Their prospective ride turns into a fireball that washes uncomfortable heat over Jared’s face – despite the fact that he uses his superior reflexes to turn back behind the wall the moment he realizes what’s going to happen.

He takes one look at the terrified face of the man next to him and concedes that it’s time to get out some big guns of his own. Jared takes a deep breath and closes his eyes to centre himself for a moment. When he opens his eyes again, the world has changed into the weird blue-tinged double vision that comes with accessing the mainframe that runs various parts of his body, including his artificial eye. Three years of dealing with his very out of the ordinary bio-mechanical enhancements and he still gets a little queasy from it. Right now is not the time to dwell on that, however – he has to get the ambassador to safety through the seedier boroughs of the Venezuelan capital after all.

“Operation Control, come in.”  
There’s a blast of static in his left ear that makes Jared cringe until Jensen comes in on his very personal line a little too loud and frantic.  
“Jared, are you alright?”  
He grabs the ambassador by the arm and starts herding him away from the hot zone, keeping close to the wall and scanning the rooftops around them in case the attackers have positioned a sniper.  
“Fine, though you might have mentioned that this supposedly ‘cushy security detail job’ could possibly involve some close quarter urban combat with a small army. They have a _grenade launcher_.”  
“Oh my God, I didn’t… I’m so sorry, are you ok?”

Jared resists the urge to groan. One of these days, he will actually get it into Jensen’s head to follow proper protocol and not ask these questions when he has other, much more pressing information he should be focusing on.  
“I said I was fine. I’m with the ambassador, on foot. We need a route to the embassy that doesn’t involve any cross paths with our original route, NOW. You have our location?”

Jared hates that his biometrical signature is traceable like this, but Jensen wrote all the tracking protocols himself and changes the algorithms regularly to keep America’s best and brightest data miners from breaking into the feed. So far, there has been no indication that the American government has cottoned on to the fact that one of their rogue scientists has been piggy-backing onto satellites to keep track of the very sought-after military experiment which Dr. Ackles had snatched from right under their noses. It helps that Jensen designed most of the operating system himself and it’s become one of a kind after Jared’s freaky brain was done integrating it into his nervous system. And it’s definitely handy in situations like this that Jensen can figure out where exactly he is with a couple of key strokes and direct him to a safe exit.

“Yes, I’ve got you. I have three possible alternate routes, I’ll give you the live feed, ok?”  
“Copy. And give me warning of possible bogies this time?”  
“Right, right, of course!”  
Jared looks around and waits for one of the alleyways to light up in his artificial vision, indicating their exit route and gets moving as soon as the direction is clear, the dumbstruck ambassador stumbling along, trying to keep up with his strides.

“By the way, when I get home, we’re going to talk about you finding jobs that end up with me in an ambush involving enough automatic weapons for fill my quota for the entire year.”  
“Hey, need I remind you that my top secret credentials involve bio-engineering, and not the CIA field office? I had to learn this mercenary shit on the fly. The embassy is two blocks away, take the stairs.”  
Jared ushers the ambassador down a narrow flight of stairs, coming out in a back alley that is bustling with people of the neighbourhood. They can’t be pursued here with the big trucks the attackers rolled in on, but Jared throws worried looks around anyway – a foreigner and a man who’s got the local looks, but whose sleek business attire probably costs more than some of these people make in a couple of months are still bound to draw unwanted attention. Caracas might be a bustling and modern city, but if you find yourself at the edge of the slums, chances are that you’re not going to like the experience. He makes sure to keep his gun ready and in plain sight, before picking up where he left off with Jensen.

“Two words. Grenade. Launcher.”  
“I know, I know, I said I was sorry, didn’t I? Excuse me if the fact that we’re fugitives on the run from the United States military with about $ 3.5 million worth of their most advanced technology makes the application of our marketable skills a little difficult! No, wait, go left there, there’s a shortcut coming up.”  
Jared makes a sharp turn and catches the ambassador before he can twist his ankle on the next step, ignoring the increasing bafflement with which the man looks at him.

“Look, I don’t like you out in the field and exposed any more than you do. But our mutual friend could only funnel so much cash into my secure accounts and your spare parts are kind of expensive.”  
Jared sighs, but he’s got no leg to stand on here, because he and Jensen discussed at length what they were going to do about their dwindling funds, and this was the best solution they could come up with. The work means fast cash and is as legitimate as they can get without causing blips on the wrong radar. Never mind that it allows Jared to field-test his abilities in a way that will undoubtedly come in very handy when – not if – the government spooks on their tail catch up with them one of these days.

“Still, you know how I’m allergic to people trying blow me up?”  
This time he can clearly hear the smile in Jensen’s voice.  
“I do. But it didn’t stick last time, either, did it? Ok, take the next right, then left and you’ll hit the street straight up towards the embassy. Five-hundred yards, but you’re going to be exposed on the avenue.”  
“Copy that. Can you call ahead, tell them we’re coming in?”  
“Already done, the gate will open as soon as they have a visual of the two of you.”

Jared turns to the ambassador, who looks decidedly less shaken after having had a few minutes to pull himself together, and gives clear directions:  
“Alright, we’re not far from the embassy, but we’ll be out in the open for the last leg and might run into trouble if they have a secondary team around to cover the building. So if I say ‘Duck’, you’re going to drop like a pile of rocks and if I say ‘Run’, you’re going to head for the gate as fast as you can, no questions asked, can you do that?”  
The man presses his lips into a thin line, but confirms the orders with a curt nod all the same. Jared inclines his head in return and then turns to check that the way is clear before hurrying them into the last couple of turns.

Finally, they reach the avenue that will take them to their destination. It’s busy with cars, though there are less people on the sidewalk and Jared wishes it was reassuring that they’ve entered a more posh part of the town, but it really isn’t. He keeps the ambassador at his back and sets a brisk pace towards the gated villa that houses the embassy. He can hear the lock of the reinforced steel door rattling already when they approach and lets out a breath since they’re seconds away from being in the clear, when Jensen’s voice rings loud in his ear:  
“Jared, look out!”

Jared turns just in time to see the motorbike barrel down the street towards them, the dark clad rider weaving dangerously through traffic, before a burst of submachine gunfire comes their way. He shoves the ambassador behind a parked car, feels something impact with a dull thud on his left side and lays down cover fire, very well aware that the one and a half clips he has left for his Beretta are no match for an Uzi.

“Je… get those damn guards off their asses to cover us, we’re pinned down in sight of the gate!”  
Jared doesn’t get an answer on comms, but seconds later, the gate bursts open and spits out three guards armed with rifles. Their bullets give the shooter a momentary pause as he swings his bike around to take cover behind a passing van, and give Jared the opening he’s been waiting for. The ambassador doesn’t need to be told to move this time – not quite another spineless bureaucrat after all – and Jared follows him, ducked low behind the parking cars. There’s still a cleared, open space in front of the gate they need to cross though and the guards will have to stop shooting to avoid hitting them once they make a run for it.

Jared only hesitates long enough to check that there’s a round chambered in his gun, before he yells “Go!” at the ambassador. Then he twists up and around, letting the computer inside his head take over the hand-eye-coordination and squeezes the trigger in quick succession. Three slugs hit the attacker square in the chest and his last spray of bullets goes ineffectively into the air above their heads. Jared does not to stay and check his handiwork, sprinting past the gate instead and only letting go of the air in his lungs when he hears the satisfying clang of metal on metal.

~*~

“Are you sure, you don’t want to reconsider my offer, Mr. Walker?”  
Jared still hasn’t gotten used to his new alias, Samuel Walker, and in all the years of frequently changing identities he’s never quite managed to pick up the habit of thinking of himself with his new names. Still, he shakes off the weird feeling to frankly answer the ambassador.  
“It’s really generous of you to offer me the position as your Head of Security, Ambassador Paredes, but I’m afraid I am only in the market for short term assignments at the moment. No offense.”

The ambassador nods gravely, looking a lot more put together after the debrief.  
“I understand. And since the attack has actually managed to convince the Venezuelan government that our negotiations about border security towards Colombia need to be moved up, our intelligence says that the rogue elements behind the attack will take some time to regroup. However, I feel like just covering your fees and leaving it at that shows too little appreciation for your service. Especially since you got injured in the process of getting me to safety.”  
Jared keeps himself from following Paredes’ gesture towards his ribs to avoid jarring the place where the bullet left a good-sized dent in his tac-vest and a rather colourful bruise on his lower back that will unfortunately heal at its own slow, very human pace.  
“I’m fine, honestly, Ambassador. You probably wouldn’t believe how much worse I’ve had, even if I were allowed to tell you.”

A smile stretches the ambassador’s lips in response.  
“Well, I’ll have to take your word for it, I suppose. But, please, consider me in your debt and if there is ever anything I can do for you, let me know. Here is my personal contact information, please don’t hesitate to call. Especially if you change your mind about the job offer.”  
Jared takes the expensively embossed card and slides it into his breast pocket after a cursory look at the number. He knows that he won’t change his mind about the job, but his life on the run these past few years has taught him that you don’t pass up contacts, especially if they sit in high places and offer you favours.  
“Thank you, I will. Now, I fear that I have to get going.”  
“Certainly, Mr. Walker. Captain Reyes will see you out.”

Jared shakes the ambassador’s hand and follows the soldier walking very stiffly ahead of him. Jared can’t tell whether that’s just the way South American soldiers carry themselves on principle or because he just basically turned down this guy’s job. It would have been a very well-paying gig, but he can’t afford to be stationary for long, at least not in such a public position. It’s bad enough that his reputation is starting to get noticed in the community. Of course it’s good for business to get referrals, that’s largely how the trade works anyway, but anything as flashy as this might put him on the radar of people he’d rather not put on his tail.

~*~

Jared drives back to his rent-by-the-week apartment. It’s going to be an almost six hour drive back to Coro, where their latest hidey-hole is located and he needs to get some shut-eye. The debrief ran rather late into this very exciting day. Besides, if he doesn’t check in face to face soon, Jensen is probably going to run out of patience and break into his visual feed, no matter how much Jared hates that. However, he hasn’t been in contact since laying his tech dormant and shooting off a quick text to tell Jensen that it was over and he was more or less in one piece – and since that had been about four hours ago, he’s actually surprised Jensen hasn’t left more than a couple of text messages in reply so far.

He still takes the time to close the door behind him and lean against the cheap plywood for a few moments with closed eyes to shake off the lingering tension from the gruelling day. Sometimes he just needs a couple of minutes to himself like this before he’s able to field Jensen’s regular check-in routine. Jared is well aware that Jensen’s sometimes overbearing mother-henning is in his nature as a medical professional, but also due to the fact that they depend on each other for survival. Still, he knows that they would never have made it as far as they did, if not for the deep and lasting friendship that has grown between them. Considering the incredible chemistry they had, even when they were virtual strangers, it’s not that surprising. But sometimes Jared wonders how their relationship would have developed if they hadn’t first met while he was shredded to bits by an Afghan IED and Jensen was so far in his own head down in that military research bunker that he latched onto the faintest connection between them with barely a thought.

Jared sets up the laptop to boot on the corner of the bed, and makes himself stop pondering maybe’s while he goes to change into something more comfortable to wear. After Jensen had given up his entire life’s work to avoid having to cut him open as part of a government-mandated live autopsy, Jared had finally been able to put aside his horror about having machines take over essential parts of his body. In time, he’s come to regard Jensen as so much more than the facilitator of that monstrous change, which was what counts in the long run.

What they have now is good, despite being cut off from their friends and family and having to face very early on in their great escape that trying to add a romantic relationship to their complicated situation was just something they couldn’t afford.

Jared takes his shirt off, taking care not to jar his bruised ribs and looks back at the laptop when Jensen’s voices comes out of the speakers.  
“Well, if you’d told me I’d get a show as compensation for being abandoned out here with no more detailed info then ‘I’m alive, in one piece, debrief might be a while’ for hours, I’d have made popcorn.”  
Jared looks up at Jensen, who’s appeared on the video feed, and intentionally flexes his biceps teasingly, appreciating the colour that rises in Jensen’s cheeks.  
“And I’m telling you once and for all, I’m not having cybersex with you.”  
Jensen blows up his cheeks in response, pretending to pout with wounded pride.  
“Because you’re a spoilsport.”

Jared rolls his eyes and turns to fish a t-shirt out of his bag, only remembering that the move would have brought his bruise-mottled back into full view of the camera when he hears Jensen’s sharp intake of breath and berates himself for not breaking the news more carefully.  
“You said you were in one piece.”  
“I am.”  
“But you look like you went a couple of rounds with… did you get hit by a _bullet_? Jared!”  
“The _vest_ got hit by a bullet, ok? I’m fine. And you know, you shouldn’t be calling me that.”  
“Excuse me, if I can’t be quite as nonchalant about the fact that you barely escaped having an additional hole in your body, that’s most definitely not supposed to be there, by a couple of inches!”

Jared sits down on the bed and gingerly leans against the headboard while positioning the laptop so he can look Jensen in the eye.  
“Are we going to have to talk about this again? I don’t like getting shot at any more than anyone, especially when it involves an unexpected ambush like that, but it’s my job and I’m not afraid of that part. Remember, thanks to you I haven’t only survived much worse, but I’m even better equipped to handle these situations than most people.”  
“You know I feel exceptionally useless every time you put yourself out there like that and I just sit on my ass the entire time.”  
“But you aren’t useless. In fact, without you having my back, I wouldn’t have been able to get the ambassador to safety like I did.”

Jensen leans back in his chair, surrounded by the eerie glow of the screens and servers spread all over his “man-cave” and Jared tries to cobble enough brain cells together for a proper pep talk.  
“Look, we’re a good team, right? This pay-check will get us through the next three months, easy, so it’s well worth the risks in my book. We both have our part to play in keeping us afloat and I’m a soldier, I’m fine with mine, despite the risks.”  
“Alright, alright, I get it, you’re good at what you do. _We’re_ good. Still, I…”  
“What? What is it?”  
Jensen looks away, fingers tapping nervously against the desk, all traces of the flirtatious banter gone.

“I feel like we’re taking these jobs, these risks, only to keep treading water… how long is that supposed to go on for? Your family thinks you’re KIA and my friends probably still get hauled in for questioning on a regular basis. I got us out, but I didn’t _get_ us anywhere.”  
Jared drags the laptop closer in an attempt to make Jensen focus on him instead of his mounting anxiety.  
“Listen to me. We got dealt a bad hand and we’ve been playing it very well so far. Do I like being cut off from my friends and family? Sure as hell not. But staying away keeps them save and it most definitely beats being the next universal soldier prototype or worse. And I’m not completely without family and friends, you know?”

Jensen’s fingers stop tapping on the table top and Jared knows he’s got him back on track.  
“You’re only saying that because you’re a great big sap underneath that tough soldier routine. And you know how to push all my buttons.”  
Jared softens his expression and is glad to see some of the rigid tension flow out of Jensen’s shoulders.  
“I love you too, jerk. Now, are you done with the existential crisis of the month?”  
“Hey, I don’t have these every month, no more often than quarterly, tops!”  
“Jen…?” Jared keeps his tone light and teasing, but he needs Jensen to say it, before he can be sure it’ll be fine. Jensen looks at him exasperatedly, but then blows a mocking kiss at the camera.  
“Yes, yes, all done. By the way, I might actually have a new job lined up for us.”

Jared closes his eyes with a small sigh of relief. Sometimes these moments blow over fast, sometimes they linger. And as understanding as he is of the way Jensen’s handling things – or not handling them on occasion – his current state of exhaustion makes him very grateful that this one turns out to be the former.  
“That’s great. Can we talk about it in the morning though? I could really use some rest right about now. I’ll call you up before I leave after breakfast tomorrow, ok?”

Jensen’s hands are already fluttering over the keyboard again, which assures Jared that he’ll soon be completely absorbed in work, fuelled by that weird, enduring biorhythm left over from years of medical emergency shifts. Jared has learned that he has absolutely no desire to match that rhythm and his own military trained ability to fall asleep anywhere at any time makes him a perfect counterpart to Jensen’s high speed scientific mind. He’s already halfway gone when Jensen’s absentminded answer filters through the speakers.  
“Oh yes, yes, that’s fine. I’ve got some vetting to do on the client’s background anyway.”  
Jared nods with a small smile and shuts down the video line before setting the laptop on the nightstand and finally sinking down into exhausted sleep.

~*~

Jensen barely notices Jared signing off to get his deserved sleep. He’s too keyed up from the adrenaline of the chase and the agony of waiting to do anything but bury himself in work. Despite his fingers flying over the keyboard, he does notice one distinctly out-of-place sound coming from right behind him though. It’s the metallic rasp of a round being chambered into the barrel of a gun.

His fingers instantly freeze over the keys when it registers.  
“Yes, do take care to vet your clients thoroughly. After all, we wouldn’t want Mr _Walker_ to end up in another skirmish so soon after last night, wouldn’t we?”  
Jensen’s body turns numb when he feels the cold business end of the pistol pressing against the left side of his neck. He lifts his hands from the keyboard and up in the air very slowly.

He tries to identify his captor out of the corner of his eye, but the man is deliberately standing at an angle where Jensen won’t be able to see him without actively turning his head, which, given the way the weapon is trained on him right now, doesn’t seem like a very good idea.  
“Who are you?”  
“Oh, not your worst nightmare. That would be the US Government, wouldn’t it? No, let’s say I’m merely a private third party very interested in your rather extraordinary skillset.”

Jensen can hear that the speaker is actually standing somewhere further away, which means at least two men in the room, one the shot-caller and one the muscle.  
“You have a very peculiar way of showing your interest, breaking into someone’s house and holding them at gunpoint. You could have gotten my attention in a much less dramatic fashion.”  
“Ah, true, maybe, but I like my arguments to be persuasive ahead of time whenever I get ready to close a deal. Now, shall we talk, _Dr. Ackles_?”

~*~

Jared isn’t quite sure what wakes him at first, especially when the way the light filters into the room tells him that he’s at least a couple of hours away from his wake-up time. But his years as a soldier have left him with a keen instinct for irregular changes in his environment that even permeates sleep. Before he can completely shake off the cobwebs though, a voice comes through the speakers of the laptop he’d forgotten to close down after talking to Jensen last night.  
“Though I generally loath to disturb people in their well-deserved rest, unfortunately, we’re on a schedule here and I’d much appreciate it if you could join us, Mr. _Walker_.”

Jared’s eyes snap over to the video feed on the screen instantaneously, because the man’s voice coming from the speakers definitely doesn’t belong to Jensen, which immediately sets Jared’s teeth on edge. He instinctively catalogues every detail from that moment: the cultured British accent – steeped in something that makes it sound learned, rather than native – while the man’s tone carries a refined edge conveying how very much he doesn’t care about people’s rest one way or another. But what makes Jared’s blood run cold even more than the fact that there’s a stranger speaking on an exclusive and very secure line, is the way he says the name ‘Walker’, like he knows exactly who he’s really talking to.

What he sees on the screen freezes the breath in Jared’s lungs and he can barely get a handle on the systems threatening to come online, which would not be helpful at all right now. Jensen is visible in the frame, but instead of his usually relaxed sprawl, he’s sitting rigidly in his desk chair and Jared suspects that his wrists have been duct-taped to the armrests. His lips are pressed in a thin line, and a colourful bruise spans from his left temple, down over his cheek, bisected by a small trickle of blood running down from his split brow. He seems largely unharmed otherwise – yet –, but shaken nonetheless.

Jared bites back the automatic question of whether he’s alright, tamping down his reactions as to avoid giving his opponent more ammunition than he absolutely has to.  
“You have me at a disadvantage. You seem to know my name, but I have absolutely no idea who you are. Generally, I find people who introduce themselves to me that way to be very rude, and rarely worth my time.”  
The man in charge on the other end chuckles and drops a hand on Jensen’s shoulder, who tries very hard not to flinch. Whether the reaction stems from injury or apprehension, Jared can’t tell for sure. The mysterious captor finally leans into the frame, giving Jared a first look at who they are dealing with. The guy is tall, lean and handsome. Tan features that place his background anywhere between Brazil and Italy, by way of Iran; while the slicked back dark hair combined with a suit that Jared suspects costs more than what he made on this most recent job completes the picture of a polished businessman.

His grin gives him the air of a shark, sleek and elegant, but fast and deadly whenever he spots prey and the confidence in his voice speaks to the fact that he knows very well who’s got the reins in hand here and that he is only willing to indulge Jared up to a certain point.  
“You’re right, of course, and while my name is of little importance in this matter, I do hate to be rude; so you may address me as Mr. Bakshi.”  
Jared has no doubt that the name is as fake as the one written on his own passport right now, but every detail he’s able to file away will hopefully go towards getting them out of the royal mess they’re in.

“But let’s dispense with the pleasantries. We’ve let the good doctor wait long enough, don’t you agree? I think it’s time we started talking business.”  
“I can hardly wait.”  
Jared tries to keep the flippant façade up, despite the tension that’s been on the rise in his body since he first got a glimpse of Jensen on the screen. Bakshi’s grin broadens like he can follow Jared’s thoughts to a tee.  
“I must say, I like you already. You’ve got sass, and are quick on your feet, not some typical jarhead. But then, given your situation, I shouldn’t have been surprised. Still, since the job I’ve got for you will require every trick in the book even for someone with your _unique_ resources, I guess it’s just as well.”

“You keep talking about business, yet you barely say anything useful that would help me decide whether the job’s for me or not.”  
“Oh, yes, of course, cutting to the chase. I’m acquiring your services to walk into an unregistered CIA black-site tucked away right on the Columbian border, infiltrate their closed-circuit server system and walk away with a piece of code from their drives, which you will in turn deliver to me.”  
Jared chokes on a gasp and from Jensen’s widening eyes, he figures that whatever they’d been doing to him, it didn’t involve informing him of the actual purpose of this elaborate set-up.  
“That is crazy. If you have any inkling of who I am and I suspect you do, I’m the last person you want to send after _American_ intelligence assets.”

Bakshi swipes away Jared’s exclamation with a careless flick of his wrist.  
“If you are worried about the issue of identification, don’t be. You’ve slid down the priority list quite a bit in the past three years and we’ve already taken the liberty of scrubbing your visual identification from the wanted posters and outfitting your otherwise excellent cover with a – let’s say, more suitable background. I had originally planned to drop in on you,” Bakshi tips his finger against his ear in a way that tells Jared exactly what kind of access he’s talking about, “a little more unannounced than this. But since our good doctor did prove to be remarkably resilient in his refusal to provide us with access into that extraordinary system and my associate has been rather frustrated in her attempts to crack his coding so far, I was forced to resort to this less elegant means of persuasion. However, I have a feeling the life of your partner makes an excellent bargaining chip either way, don’t you agree?”

At a small nod from Bakshi, another man steps into the frame, big and burly, clearly the muscle and just as clearly experienced with the gun he is pressing against Jensen’s bruised temple. Jared curls his fingers painfully into his thigh, out of sight of the camera’s angle. He knows, given how well-informed Bakshi is on their past that it’s probably futile, but he has to try and downplay the relationship between him and Jensen to weaken their leverage as best as he can until he finds a way out of this.  
“What makes you think his life is worth so much to me that I would take the risks you propose instead of just killing the line and leaving you high and dry with a system you apparently can’t crack?”

From Jensen’s downturned lips and the play of his eyebrows, Jared gleans that this is exactly what the other man wants him to do and it settles like a block of concrete in his stomach. Bakshi sighs a little and even the roll of his eyes is slick and poised.  
“Don’t insult me. We all know well enough just how much your continued survival depends on his abilities. Besides, no system is truly unbreachable and I assure you, you won’t like what I’m prepared to do if you blow our timeline and make me come after you the old-fashioned way. Now, let’s move on to the details, shall we?”

~*~

Jensen tries to stop straining against the duct tape keeping his wrists stuck to the armrests of his chair, since the chance that he’d be able to free himself that way are miniscule. It’s an involuntary reaction though, to the hare-brained mission this guy, Bakshi, is proposing. Jensen can’t believe that Jared hasn’t yet cut his losses and is actually hearing this pompous asshole out. They have contingency plans for this, dammit – though admittedly they’re not really geared towards dealing with a guy that looks and sounds more like a gentleman robber than a government intelligence officer. All the same, Jared should have been hauling ass for ten minutes already, instead he’s been ignoring every single silent cue Jensen’s been trying to send him. He flexes his wrists again to keep the circulation from completely shutting down, only half paying attention to whatever details to the plan Bakshi is laying out in favour of watching the fourth person in the room like a hawk.

She’s sitting outside of the camera’s angle, so Jensen’s fairly sure that Jared’s not aware of her presence, but to Jensen, she presents a greater threat than the guy with a gun currently trained at his head. The slim Asian woman has been literally hacking away at the keyboard of her laptop with what looks like bruising speed for the whole three hours he’s been sitting here. And while her face started out with an air of quiet confidence that has since turned into a pleasingly frustrated frown, Jensen is well aware that Bakshi is right and no system, no matter how well protected, is unbreachable. Given enough time and tenacity, she might be able to break his encryptions and the only thing that’s working in Jensen’s favour right now is the fact that they seem to be on some kind of deadline. On the other hand, if they miss that deadline, the chance that Jensen is going to catch a bullet in the face as a parting gift are looking pretty damn good.

“Jensen, give them access.”  
He is so used to Jared’s commanding tone cutting through the haze of his wandering thoughts that he springs into action with a small ‘uhuh’ noise escaping his lips. Only when his fingers strain towards the keys against the unyielding pressure of the restraints does his brain get the critical second to catch up.  
“Wait what?”  
Jensen is suddenly uncomfortably aware of the four pairs of eyes trained on him with slight incredulity, which means that they hadn’t stopped talking while his stream of consciousness was running away with him again and he obviously missed some vital development in the process, as usual. Doesn’t mean he isn’t going to add his two cents after the fact.

“Are you insane? I’ve designed this system to run on a – 4.5 GHz multicore Nano processor – which she probably can’t even mirror in processing capability with her…” “i9 7980-XE” “…i9 7980-XE … which is actually just about advanced enough to handle the processing load, but nevertheless I’m not going to let a bunch of _criminals_ run wild with my code. Do you have any idea what could go wrong?”  
“Jen, listen to me, either we open a door for them or they’re just going to smash through the wall at some point, and I can’t imagine that will be any more pleasant. Right now, we’re better off giving them eyes and ears. On our own terms.”

Jared’s expression reveals nothing as to what it likely costs him to open himself up like that as a bargaining chip for Jensen’s life – at least not to someone who hasn’t studied his features as thoroughly as Jensen has. Still, there is a peculiar glint in his eyes that makes the alarm bells chime in Jensen’s head that tell him Jared expects him to realize something about their situation that would turn giving in to that slick, vile man’s extortion into an advantage. The penny drops with an involuntary twitch of Jensen’s fingers against the armrests of his chair. In addition to giving his kidnappers only a controlled view, _he’ll_ get his hands back on the keys as well. Granted, it’s going to be with a very dogged tail if the woman’s offhand comments about her tech are anything to go by, but Jensen will be damned if some black hat biddy with what amounts to a high powered notebook gets one over on someone who’s revolutionized Nano-technological programming. He’ll have to be very smart about it, since that bullet ripping into his brainstem at a moment’s notice is a very real possibility, but it buys them both time to figure a way out of this mess.

Jensen gives Jared the smallest of nods to let him know he got the message and is rewarded by those slanted hazel eyes lighting up with a brilliant smile that Jared doesn’t permit to loosen up the tense set of his jaw. Time for some smoke and mirrors – if there’s one thing Jensen’s got down to a tee it’s the casually arrogant scientific genius who doesn’t give a rat’s ass about adverse environmental conditions interfering with his process.  
“Alright, I’ll write you a patch so you will be able to monitor the output feeds in real time, but that’s as far as I go.”

Hacker lady looks up from her perch with her fingers poised in the air over her keyboard and blithely addresses her boss over Jensen’s head.  
“Ie.”  
Jensen has watched enough anime in his insomniac state to have picked up the Japanese word for ‘No’ – though her tone is particularly scathing when she follows it up with a string of words of which only every third sounds vaguely familiar. Bakshi’s lip curls into a smirk and with a slight nod, he gets his minion to press the barrel a little more insistently against the base of Jensen’s skull.  
“I’m afraid, Miss Okuda is insisting on full operational access instead of just a mirror feed and as you can imagine, in these matters I’m inclined to defer to her expertise.”

Jensen curses silently at the woman, who he suspects is just nerdy enough underneath all that aloof exterior to jump at the chance of playing around in a unique, well advanced and very much classified system whether she actually needs to for the purpose of this endeavour or not. He casts around for a hand to play and then decides that he’s just about had it with these people breaking into his home and fucking around with him.  
“No. Njet. Niente. Nada. Zipp. Zilch. No fucking way. Do you _read_ me? This isn’t the Pentagon, lady, this is one of kind closed Nano-computing technology that independently bio-integrated in a human nervous system and you will. Not. Fuck. Around. WITH IT. On some days I can barely keep up with it and I _wrote_ the damn protocols. Either you take what I give you – which is more than I would regard as save on a purely operational level – or you can put a bullet in my head right on the spot for all the good I will do you concerning the rest of this scheme.”

~*~

Jared is just about ready to throw the notebook at the wall when Jensen offers his captors to shoot him instead of complying. But he can’t deny that seeing Jensen bound, threatened, helpless and still finding a way to negotiate his way to an advantage makes a frisson of excitement run down his spine – a reaction that is as involuntary as it’s inappropriate. There’s still a split second of mind-numbing fear that Bakshi will call Jensen’s bluff and cut his losses, but from the layout of his extraction plan, Jared knows that whatever the guy wants is too time-sensitive and valuable to be thrown out over some pushback. And he’s proven right when the man takes a long look at Jensen’s defiant posture and then glances over at the woman outside the camera’s frame, before giving an order in Japanese. From the look on her face, Jared doesn’t need to know the language to puzzle out it means something along the lines of “Take what you can get.”

Jared can’t see her reaction off screen of course, but the subtle, smug tilt of Jensen’s head tells him they’ve won this round at least. They lock eyes briefly and Jared hopes Jensen will use his chance for their own benefit if he can, to carve themselves a way out of this situation. Right now though, Jared really wants to kiss Jensen for the casual arrogance with which he delivers the quip:  
”Well, are you going to cut me loose, or do you expect me to go on typing with my special set of telekinetic ghost fingers?”  
The guy representing the muscle holsters his gun for a moment and flips a serrated combat knife out of a sheath beneath his suit to slash the tape at Jensen’s wrists with ease. Jared is instantly sure that he would need neither the knife nor the gun to take out Jensen in seconds if need be, but then their most valuable bargaining chip right now is not to show fear in the face of such competence and ruthlessness.

~*~

Jensen rubs his wrists to get rid of the painful tingle of blood rushing back in and to gather himself for a moment to try and figure out how to best make a move with the intense scrutiny on him. His best bet is clearly any time before that dainty little hacker gets a mirror image of everything Jared sees and hears on her screen and the customized obscurity of his system will clearly help to hide whatever he tries to do. When he’s finally stalled longer than is objectively necessary to stretch out his fingers, he sets them to the keyboard and decides to run the regular cleaning protocols to give himself just a little more time to think.  
“Do feel free to talk us through the proceedings, good Doctor. Regardless of the fact that I’m putting a good deal of trust in your ability to act in your own best interest, I’d hate to miss a chance to follow your priceless invention closely in action.”

Jensen grits his teeth, well aware that talking about what he’s doing in real time will make it much more difficult to sneak something past them without slipping up at some point. It’s a fact that Bakshi is undoubtedly counting on among other things, but that he has no good reason to deny it at this point.  
“I’m just running the regular systems checks to make sure there’s no bugs in there, a simple protocol to make sure the different feeds are running without any corrupted sections. It’s something that I do every other day or so anyway and considering that you’ve been trying to hack your way in for three hours now, I want to be damn sure the porch is clean before you make me punch a hole into the wall of my own house.”

As metaphors go, it’s not the most elegant one, but unwittingly serves its purpose of concealing the flash of an idea that takes root in Jensen’s brain almost the moment he utters the words. It’s a terrible plan, because it represents possibly bringing everything they’ve been running from crashing in on them, with no control over what will happen after it works, all while flying blind, but at the moment, it’s Jensen’s best bet. So, when the sweep unsurprisingly comes up clean – take that little hacker lady – he sets to writing a very personalized, very narrow backdoor into his system while simultaneously laying out the breadcrumbs. He’s never been so grateful for his fast-typing skills.

“Ok, all done, now I need your internal network key to hook you up.”  
She answers in rapid-fire Japanese that Jensen has no chance to follow.  
“I believe it’s in your inbox.”  
Jensen suspects using her native language it more of a ploy to keep him off balance and out of the loop rather than not being able to understand or speak English perfectly well, but he can’t deny that all the talking over his head is ticking off his pedantic brain. He makes himself focus again and logs into the account he keeps for contacting clients and finds a non-descript email with a simple .txt-attachment. When the security scan comes up clean, he opens it to find an unusually long string of numbers, letters and signs in the file.  
“Now, that’s just paranoid.”

This one she answers with a shrug and a snort that takes Jensen aback with how un-villain-like it is. Normally, he would make it a point to type in any password by hand, but this is ridiculous, so he copy-pastes the sequence directly into the open bracket and reconfigures the system to allow a mirror. He turns back to Jared who’s been watching anxiously from the top left of the screen.  
“You’re going to have to come online for the update to work.”

A slight grimace flashes across Jared’s face, like he’d rather do anything else, but then his brow scrunches up with that inward frown he gets whenever he switches on his extra-biological perception. The right-hand screen on Jensen’s array goes black and then lights up again with an eerie light-blue tinged image of the laptop screen and his own fuzzy face starring back at him. Jared blinks rapidly a few times and even though Jensen knows that he shouldn’t be able to perceive the patch, he can’t help but think Jared’s brain is able to sense the intruder on some level. It wouldn’t be the first extraordinarily unexpected thing he’s done, after all.

“Alright, you should be able to mirror the feed on your system now,” Jensen turns to Bakshi with a scathing edge in his voice. “You see what we see. No sneaky messages or manipulation possible, satisfied?”  
After Bakshi gets a curt nod from his hacker, he gifts Jensen with a condescending smile. Of course he doesn’t know about all the sub-protocols that even Jared isn’t really aware of most of the time that Jensen plans to use for exactly that – covert communication and manipulation. But he will also be very careful in trying to access them, which certainly isn’t made any easier by the thug looking over his shoulder. Jensen has no doubts that he man is more than just dumb muscle, a criminal of Bakshi’s clout and calibre wouldn’t hire people with simply one set of skills. Still, he has to try.

“Fantastic, I’m glad we could come to an agreement with the minimal amount of fuzz. Now, Mr. _Walker_ if you would be so kind, I’ve sent a car waiting.”  
Jensen sees Jared’s eyes flash murderously for a moment when he turns to Bakshi, but it’s the only sign that he’s not quite as on board as his earlier insistence implies – there and gone in a fraction of a second.  
“Well then, I guess with five minutes to pack, I’ll be ready in no time.”  
“Oh, no need, my associates will have everything you need ready for you, however, I must insist that you leave right away. We are on a schedule after all.”

~*~

Jared hears the knock on the door practically the moment Bakshi stops speaking, so well-timed it’s clearly another choreographed move in the man’s scheme. The goons also don’t bother waiting for him to open the door. With a click, the lock turns and Jared’s got no doubt that cutting him off from taking anything he might be able to use to make an unanticipated move is as much part of the agenda as the strict timeline. It also means that from this moment, he’ll be unable to see Jensen, the only point of contact the familiar voice in his ear, while they get to use him like a very advanced first-person-shooter, watching the mission unfold through his eyes. The thought makes Jared’s skin crawl, a feeling that concentrates at the back of his skull, but he doesn’t wait for the goon squad to get impatient and with a last look at Jensen on screen cuts the connection and follows them out.

Thankfully everyone is silent as they get into a sleek SUV, because Jared feels like he would probably snap if he got stuck between two two-hundred pound slaps of muscle with a virtual backseat driver. The drive isn’t long, taking them to an industrial district of Caracas and turning into a side street leading up to a warehouse gate soon enough. The warehouse is bustling with people and set up with a multitude of high end equipment, confirming Jared’s suspicion, that this criminal enterprise they’ve unwittingly stepped into is as big and well-connected as it gets. It also speaks to the sophistication of the target’s security and for all the glibness Bakshi has offered in assurance of his cover getting him in and out smooth sailing, Jared really doesn’t like his chances of walking away. He and Jensen will become expendable as soon as Bakshi gets his hands on that info and Jared is under no illusion that Bakshi won’t burn him without a second thought if it suits him. He’s going to along for now to stall, find a way for Jensen to get out, who he hopes is on task by now, because right in this moment Jared’s got fuck all on his end in terms of solutions.

The operatives on site don’t waste any time, shuffling him into a cordoned corner that is filled with suits on hangers along the entire length of the wall and a dresser that makes grabby hands at him as soon as he steps in. He tries not to think about all the eyes looking at him from inside his own head as he changes into a swanky suit that apparently says high level security consultant for covert intelligence sites. He looks in the mirror, unconsciously focusing his left eye and tries to imagine Jensen looking back at him from the other side, his gorgeous brain running a mile a minute to figure a way out of this mess, while Jared is miming the good little soldier, following orders, buying them time.

“You look very handsome, Mr Walker,” Bakshi’s voice grates into his ear. No matter how whiskey smooth it is, it feels wrong for anyone other than Jensen to be so intimately communicating with him.  
“Now there’s two more pieces of information that you need to keep in mind: as I told you before, this site is tech-locked, which means no devices in or out, which is why our associates have failed to complete their mission so far. Trying to introduce any kind of data recording or storage device triggers sophisticated countermeasures which is why we’re counting on your… unique resources to bypass those security hurdles – simply because no one would have thought of the contingency.”

Jared glares at his reflection, knowing it does translate well enough onto a screen some 400 miles away.  
“That sounds to me an awful lot like you’re just throwing shit at the wall to see what sticks and I just happen to be the next big toad.”  
He hears the shrug in Bakshi’s voice when he answers: “I am a problem solver for a significant number of very influential people. And while I hate to waste resources, especially one with such incredible potential as yourself, you’re only valuable to me as far as your usefulness takes me in solving to problem at hand. So I’m counting on you to be the spaghetti.”

Jared feels his features slacken with stunned surprise at having his quip thrown back at him like that. However, he doesn’t have time to formulate a response before his captor goes on in a completely level tone.  
“You’ll get a complete brief on what we know of the layout on the way, but there is one more thing to make clear before we go any further. I trust your desire not to see your partner harmed has taken you this far, however, I prefer to work with more than one insurance policy in missions as sensitive as this. So the text I received just now from my associate contains the script of a neat little programme that once activated will spread through all connected systems it’s introduced to, crashing them in seconds. And the good doctor has just patched that script into his station via the network key that opened our peephole.”

~*~

Everyone goes utterly still for a moment at the pronouncement, save for the tech in the corner, whose unwavering keystrokes translate into a smirk just as well as if Jensen had been able to read it on her smug face. His eyes are locked on Jared’s stricken expression in the mirror, frozen, when Bakshi continues:  
“Now, I’m sorry to admit it’s not sophisticated enough to breach your system for full control, such code would have been impossible to hide from your sharp eyes in a network key. And though I don’t know how all those little Nano-machines tending to your vital organs would react to a hard reset, I don’t imagine it will be pretty. So it should work as a kill switch just fine, crude as it is, don’t you think?”

Jensen’s hands go clammy when he remembers that one time he updated a script not a 100% and something went on the frizz, ending with Jared on the floor in a seizure. It was one of the scariest moments of his life, even counting their harrowing trek through the New Mexican desert to smuggle Jared out of his research facility. It was all he could do not to freeze up and instead activate a debugging protocol almost instantly. But he had been prepared in that moment for the various updates he does regularly to go wrong at some point and had immediately realized where he’s written a mistake into his code. This would be an outside actor, of which he had no clear idea where it would attack the system first. He’d have no chance to override that at speed.

“Now, Mr. Walker, I suggest you get going. We are on a deadline after all.”  
The dresser hands Jared a wallet with credentials, a watch, even fixes a pocket square in his jacket. The image on the screen contracts shakily for a second as Jared’s eye recalibrates in an involuntary reaction to his emotional distress. Still, after a moment, he brushes down the lapels of his suit and a deceptive calm settles over his features. He fixes the mirror one more time and Jensen’s heart speeds up again from a thready pulse when he recognizes the deep trust in his ability to carve an advantage even out of this threat. He feels overwhelmed by the responsibility, but at the same time, the kernel of an idea forms in the back of his mind. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but given time, it’ll ferment into something usable for sure. Time, however, is just what they have in short supply, so he’ll have to speed up the processes as much as he can. Jared’s eyes meanwhile twitch minutely, as if he wants to look in a different spot to address Bakshi, even if he can’t see him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you your code. Doesn’t change the fact that you are a spectacular asshole.”  
Jensen breaths sharply and quickly looks at the man’s trigger finger over phone, but the man doesn’t move except to answer absolutely unperturbed: “Thankfully, your personal opinion of me has absolutely no bearing on my self-esteem, however, I’d prefer if we’d keep our communication professional. Now, chop chop, your transport is waiting.”

~*~

Jared follows the goon without further comment, his frustration vented for the moment. But as they lead him up a flight of metal grate stairs on the side wall instead of back to the main entrance of the building, a lead weight settles in his stomach. Jared’s suspicions are confirmed when they step out on the flat roof of what was most likely once an industrial warehouse, where a helicopter is waiting with slowly idling rotors. He hears Jensen’s murmured ‘oh shit’ in his ear and makes his feet continue on without missing a beat. The rotors are spinning faster as they approach and Jared has to force himself to climb into the cabin, sliding onto the softly vibrating seat. It’s not a heavy duty military helicopter, but rather a slimmer civilian aircraft, so Jared nurses a slight hope that it might not be as bad as that, but this is still going to suck, big time. He accepts the headset and makes a conscious effort not to rub his sweaty palms onto the faux leather of the seat.

The continually accelerating “whump whump whump” of the rotor-blades is already aching in his ear, even with the protection of the heavy headphones. But as much as he tries to brace himself, it’s got nothing on what comes next. He concentrates on the chatter of the pilot finishing his pre-flight checks, staring straight ahead until the helicopter actually shudders and rises into the air. The swoop in his stomach is different than with the take off in a plane, and yet, every hope that a helicopter ride might be different gets crushed with the swift rise of the craft. Even though the pilot makes for a smooth ascent, Jared feels every foot counting up, faster and faster. The sudden, lurching nausea hits him mercilessly and his slams his eyes shut in a futile attempt to keep it at bay. He vaguely hears a squawk in his ear, but can’t even decipher the words through the swirling vertigo.

~*~

“What have you done, bring the feed back up immediately!”  
Jensen really doesn’t need the muzzle pressing more insistently against his neck to make the point, but what’s to do. It does nothing to quell his irritation with their captor, so if he gets shot because of this, he’ll be quite livid.  
“I can’t. Because I didn’t cut it.”  
“Don’t be cute with me, the screen is completely dead.”  
“Of course not, it’s just looking at the inside of a closed eyelid.”  
Bakshi looks at him with widening eyes as if such a low-tech version of counter surveillance hasn’t even occurred to him. He then steps forward to scrutinize the array of screens in front of them, which upon closer inspection aren’t entirely dark, but actually reveal a faint network of pulsing veins.  
“I’ve designed the system to include automatic extrapolations in the output feed to compensate for blinking, because it gets really distracting after a while, but even I can’t make a computer come out with a real time image without any input at all.”  
“Well, then he needs to open his eyes again at once. You hear me, Mr Walker? Give us back visual, stat!”

Jensen shakes his head.  
“He likely can’t even hear you right now, and no amount of threatening will change that!”  
“Why?”  
“Hyperactive inner ear function. The system calculates height in real time and in rapid ascent – like in an aircraft – it supplies information the brain normally doesn’t register and can’t process. It causes an overload, throwing sense of equilibrium, balance etc. all out of whack. It’ll probably get a little better once they’ve reached a steady cruising altitude, but flying… is not good.”  
“That did not show up in any progress report of yours.”  
Jensen gives Bakshi a baleful side-eye, since he doesn’t care one iota whether the man’s plans are inconvenienced, but the fact that he even has knowledge of those reports is… worrying.  
“Because it didn’t exactly come up until we tried to leave Central America in a Costa Rican puddle jumper and he started to heave his guts out over the Panama Straits.”  
“Well, that’s not acceptable. This is a three hour flight and I need him to be able to receive the mission brief in the air. We don’t have time to take care of that when they’re back on the ground.”

Jensen just gives an uncooperative shrug along the lines of ‘what do you expect _me_ to do about it?’. Bakshi narrows his eyes a fraction and Jensen feels uncomfortably assessed. He tries to keep his expression neutral and unperturbed, but he’s clearly out of his depth against the man.  
“If you’re quite sure there’s nothing you can do to handle the situation, I guess his operation is a wash and I should cut my losses now.”  
His thumb hovers over the phone screen and Jensen wants to call a bluff, he really does, but this is Jared’s life right there and a he’s not a spy, not by a long shot, so a small twitch of the man’s thumb startles a frantic “wait” out of him.  
“I…,” he licks his lips nervously to give himself some time to order this thoughts and in that moment, the idea in the back of his mind slides into sharp focus, a brewing thought coalescing into a distinct plan the moment he realizes that this might be his opening.  
“I might have been working on a solution to the problem with flying. It’s rough,… untested, but it could help.” And it gives him a perfect excuse to root around the code with them hopefully none the wiser.  
“Well, I suggest you get right to it then.”

~*~

Jared feels himself rather failing to keep the contents of his stomach contained, the only saving grace being that there’s nothing much in there to begin with, given the last time he’s eaten anything has been right before the debrief at the embassy. He tries not to press his eyes closed too strongly, the vertigo swirling around his brain. Jensen told him that relaxing his muscles, trying to ride the wave, was a better way to deal with it. Jensen means well, but he clearly has no understanding of what the sensation of your own head turning upside down on you is like. However, the thought of Jensen brings his voice to the forefront of Jared’s mind and he realizes that Jensen has been talking to him:  
“… can you be very calm for me, while I try to fix it? I need you to open your eyes for me very slowly. Can you do that for me, Jay? Yes, that’s it, don’t blink, just … very slowly.”

Jared wants to tell him that there’s no way he can manage that feat, but something in Jensen’s voice – that soft tone of a physician – coaxes him along and opens his eyes a fraction. There is nothing much to see except the backside of the pilot’s chair, yet he still tries to focus on that point while the rest of his vision is wobbling this way and that, and concentrates on Jensen’s voice in his ear.  
“That’s good, you’re doing very good, try to keep as still as possible and tell me if you feel any different, alright?”  
Jensen doesn’t talk anymore, but the constant tap of his fingers on the keyboard is as familiar as it is soothing and after a minute, Jared notices that the sickening lurches at the edge of his vision are smoothing out.

“I… it’s getting better. There’s less vertigo and the nausea is fading.”  
“That’s fantastic, now, I’ve locked in the amount of height differential the system is able to process overall, so it should reduce the output to that of like a high jump of something, that you’re able to handle in a normal situation without problems, but it’s a temporary fix that I have to undo at the end of the flight or you might not be able to walk a straight line anymore. Landing is probably going to suck big time still, but you should be fine for the moment. Just try to move around as little as possible.”  
Jared lets go of a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, but everything seems stable.  
“Alright, let’s get down to business, shall we? There’s a lot we still have to discuss.”

~*~

Jensen tunes out most of the operational talk that Bakshi takes up as soon as Jared is more or less stable and in working condition, trusting his mind to pick up important details on the way. Instead, he tries to inconspicuously watch the woman quietly typing away in her corner, aiming to gauge whether she’s caught on to his scheme. He has no doubt of her ability to recognize what he’s trying to do if she knew what to look for. However, his hope is that he’s left those few disparate bits of code scattered wide enough through the script he just patched in to keep her from catching on to what’s happening until he is ready to move and tie it all together.

So far, it seems to be working, even though it’s very draining for him to keep so many balls in the air at the same time without actually looking like he’s juggling. He’s glad that Jared at least seems to be responding well to the patch, even if it’s only a temporary fix. He wasn’t quite sure it was going to work at all, having had no opportunity to test it past a few theoretical simulations. Still, they’re not out of the woods yet.

~*~

Time went by more quickly than Jared realized while he was trying to take in the legend of the “specialized security consultant” Samuel Walker. It helps that he doesn’t actually have to deal with a whole new identity and he won’t need to remember the complete layout of the facility in advance, since he can rely on the team on site to show him around. He just needs to pass on having prepared to uncover potential security risks. Bakshi’s goon feeds him some lines about what their failed missions have uncovered, but past that initial leg up, he’s on his own, trying to figure out a way to get alone time in the main server room somehow. He marvels time and again at how well some parts of this operation are planned, while others are so unbelievably hare-brained, they might just work for that very reason. The perks of having an asset to burn with prejudice, he guesses.

The most precarious point will be the entry level security and whether he’ll truly fly under the radar with the system while retaining the connection to keep in contact with Jensen at the base.  
He’s not going to be able to do this without Jensen, he knows for sure.

~*~

When the helicopter crests another ridge topped with luscious vegetation, Jared notices for the first time that there’s another chopper flying alongside them. It’s a different kind of craft, open sides and broad skids, outfitted for a full squad to be able to airdrop into inhospitable territory. And there’s a number of very well armed men looking out across towards them.

Jared makes sure to give them a long hard look, so Jensen has a chance to see them too. They’re mercenaries of a different calibre than the goons that were sent to pick him up and he’s fairly certain they’re not here for backup, but rather to ensure the safe delivery of the package – providing also for insurance that said package doesn’t bail, kill switch or no. The chopper banks gracefully and puts some distance between them, likely heading for a more inconspicuous spot to set down the men, since a simple security consultant, no matter how fancy, wouldn’t be travelling with a full contingent of Blackwater types.

The jungle looks as thick and impassable as it has been for the better part of three hours, until Jared suddenly spots a stretch of cleared land. It’s enough to provide a landing strip for a small single motor airplane or a helicopter. The pilot prepares for landing and Jared hears Jensen warning him to brace for the patch to be deactivated. As far as he knows, Jensen has artificially suspended his sense of balance and heights, but that won’t work so well with stuff like trying to walk upright. Jensen is apparently going to time it for the last possible moment, but he needs to be able to recalibrate before they touch the ground, or Jared might be laid up for a while with the need to adjust.  
It’s all very flying by the seat of their pants.

The landing indeed sucks, calculations constantly running just inside the field of his vision as if the computer part of his brain needs to catch up on what it missed during the flight. Jared is thankful again for not having eaten anything in a while, so he’s able to keep very still, count down in his head and send a small thank you to the heavens the moment they touch down. He just breathes for a few seconds and then makes for the hatch. His legs feel wobbly when his feet finally meet the ground, like he’s got shore-leave after an extended tour on a boat, and while he tries not to lurch around too much, he’s probably failing and looking rather undignified in the process.

Not an ideal secret agent entrance by any stretch of the imagination.  
When he has the wherewithal to take in his surroundings, he comes face to face with a young man with jet-black hair and quick blue eyes, stretching out his hand for a shake.  
“Hey there, are you alright? You don’t look so hot.”  
Jared takes his hand with a small shrug.  
“I get airsick a lot.”  
“Oh yeah? That sounds like a bit of a downside in a profession where you’re jetting around the globe all the time.”  
Jared feels more like himself with every passing second and he couldn’t agree more.  
“Part of the job. I guess you learn to deal with it.”  
“I bet, Matt Cohen, by the way, I’m the station chief down here. Welcome to our humble jungle abode.”  
“Sam Walker, good to meet you,” Jared says, which is when he realizes that, one, their handshake has gone on entirely too long now, and two, there’s a rather looming presence by his side. “And this is my… associate.”

Cohen winces and Jared feels like this whole charade will fall apart at any moment, because he is in fact a terrible spy and will give himself away six ways from Sunday before they’ve even reached the car parked at the other end of the field. But the problem doesn’t seem to be him this time.  
“I’m afraid he’s going to have to stay here with the pilot. Can’t take anyone through the perimeter who’s not on the visitor’s list and you, my friend, aren’t.”  
Cohen doesn’t say it with any maliciousness or outright suspicion, more of a resigned chagrin at having to enforce these rules out here in the middle of the jungle, but that doesn’t really say anything in the world of spies. Jared is not quite sure whether shaking his physical minder puts him at an advantage or not, on an operational level; however, getting rid of at least one pair of eyes on him makes him breathe easier.  
“Oh, I’m sorry, the office should have cleared that of course, it’s no problem, he won’t mind waiting here.”  
Jared turns towards the mercenary and takes care to keep the question mark out of his voice and the anticipation off his face. The guy - and they really should have at least exchanged names to protect their covers - looks back intensely for a second, like he’s thinking of refusing, when a text pings on his phone and after a glance at it, he stands down. Jared tries to let go of the tension coiled in his belly in small increments as they make their way to their respective vehicles, while he notices Cohen watching him out of the corner of his eye.

“Strong and silent type, is he?”  
“Ah, you know, personal security. They always get twitchy when they have to leave you out of their sight.”  
“Of course, that’s their job after all, isn’t it? But I guess you’re not going to be totally helpless without him.”  
“I can handle myself.”  
Cohen shoots him a quick grin and then concentrates on driving with the laid back attitude of a driver used to terrain that opens up unexpected potholes in all sorts of places from one day to the next. The conversation goes into a lull and Jared wonders whether he should just keep his mouth shut until they arrive or try and talk to Cohen to get a better read on the man. He has felt an easy camaraderie with the man from their first handshake, and knows that a personal connection, no matter how fresh and untested, can be plus in the trust column that he might be very grateful for later. In his experience, it pays to establish a rapport with the guys already on the ground in any new base camp ASAP to get the lay of the land, but he’s not a soldier anymore. He’s a spy and while there’s some overlap, the same rules don’t apply equally. He wants to trust his instincts, which haven’t let him astray too far yet and his gut tells him that this guy is social, a charmer, who’s likely not getting his fix out here in the jungle.

“So, how many agents do you have on site at any given time out here?”  
Cohen shoots him a quick glance and opens his mouth, but seems to have a thought incoming right then than derails his answer.  
“You know, I actually can’t tell you until we’re on base and have verified your credentials.”  
Jared feels the blood drain from his face in light of another misstep and tries to keep his bearing casual. His mind is racing a mile a minute, when his mouth opens before he has the chance to realize what he’s going to answer:  
“Well, first security check, passed with flying colours then.”

Cohen laughs out loud this time.  
“What, me?”  
“Sure. I’ve read the brief, I know the site’s security system, especially the counter intelligences measures, is superb, since it withstood several attempts to breach it, so naturally human personnel is the weak spot.”  
Cohen arches his eyebrow, but concedes the point.  
“You come right out of the gate, I like it. And thanks at the same time for not asking by the way.”  
“Asking what exactly?”  
“How a young man like me makes it to station chief, even though this looks like a backwater assignment.”  
“Hadn’t occurred to me at all. I assume the CIA puts the people they deem the most qualified in those positions. And if anything, “Looks can be deceiving” is kind of the catchphrase, isn’t it?”  
Cohen snorts.  
“True. To be honest, when I got word from the top floor that they’d be sending a consultant - as if we haven’t been doing just fine handling the breach attempts, I thought this was going to be a nuisance to deal with, but I can see we’re going to get on great.”  
Jared smiles tightly before he answers:  
“Fair enough. But we’re all on the same side here, aren’t we? I’m here for the review and improvement of the security apparatus as much as trying to figure out who’s been going after your intel.”  
He can’t quite believe he keeps a straight face at the irony of it, but your life hanging in the balance apparently empowers you to untold feats of grandeur.

~*~

Jensen feels a knot forming in the muscles under his shoulder blade, tension creeping into his body with every yard Jared gets closer to where they’re going. He has watched silently as much as he can, not to distract Jared and almost startles when Bakshi leans past him to mute the microphone, so Jared won’t be looped into their conversation.  
“Your boy is quite the natural, isn’t he? It’s a shame the army brass has such a penchant for short term goals sometimes. If they’d had just a smidge of patience and let his trials study play out, instead of wanting to replicate the unicorn at once, he could now be the Agency’s most effective operative.”

Jensen curls his fingers tightly into the armrests of his chair, where he’s been told to keep his hands when he has no business at the keyboard.  
“If this is your sales pitch to offer us a job as an out after this, you can save it.”  
“Ah, but you’ll find the benefits of joining my organisation are more than generous. Besides, it’s preferable to being shot in the head before being thrown into the deep water currents for the sharks, isn’t it?”  
Visceral nausea sinks into Jensen’s belly at the dismissive description of such a gruesome fate, no matter whether it’s actually what is awaiting him at the end of this journey or whether Bakshi is putting up a show to rattle him.  
The mess doesn’t seem his style. But then he has absolutely no doubt that the man has vanished people before.  
“The fact that you would make the offer attached to such a death threat is what disqualifies it in the first place. Besides, checking your ethics at the door and then having no idea to what end your work is being used? No thank you.”  
“That might also be a valid argument, if applied to a scientist working on behalf of the US government to modify people into “super soldiers” with cybernetic enhancements without their knowledge or consent and then not even knowing nor caring what these same soldiers get up to once they leave.”

To that, Jensen has no response.  
It’s true that he got Jared out when he was ordered to do something so inconceivable and dehumanizing, he couldn’t have gone through with it either way. But it’s also true that he worked down in that bunker for years, only caring about whether he could keep his patients alive and improve their suffering by making his systems and prosthetics better. And he’s quite sure he helped many of them back on their feet - literally in many cases - and into life in a way that no other medical treatment could have managed, never mind actually saving their lives each time. But he also never asked about what happened to them once they left his care, always concentrating on the next breakthrough, the next case, hiding behind the statutes of secrecy while nursing his scientific God complex.

Bakshi regards him silently, without malice it seems, but he carries an expression that looks ever so much as “Thought so.”. Jensen wants to lash out at the man for touching one of his deepest, least resolved anxieties in this already fraught situation, especially since the man might very well know more than himself, given how well read he apparently is in matters of intelligence.

He makes himself unclench his hands slowly, taking a deep breath. Maybe it serves to let Bakshi see him affected like this. As long as the other man is under the impression that he has the upper hand, he might not go looking for the thing Jensen in planning on doing right under his nose.

~*~

They really didn’t take long, reaching the base and Jared follows Cohen into a squat building thatched with cheap metal sheeting that looks just like the low cost housing he’s seen in rural areas all over the country. He can see a couple more structures behind it, one that looks like a barracks in the rear, which means possibly more people around than he is strictly comfortable with. Cohen leads him into the front hut and takes his ID to process. Jared isn’t overly concerned about that. Everything about Bakshi’s operation so far has indicated he has the resources to back up his claim of having furnished Samuel Walker with the needed high level security credentials that would hold up in a routine check.

So he sits and waits calmly in the sweltering tropical heat. His suit is surprisingly light and serves the weather well, but even so, there’s sweat running together in the dip of his back. Cohen comes back after a couple of minutes, handing over the documents with a relaxed grin.  
“So, you are who you claim to be after all, Mr. Walker.”  
Jared takes his papers back with a lax salute, that he hoped served to establish their little in-joke rather than look ironic.  
“Guilty as charged. So, how about we have a talk about this place first before I go have a look around?”  
“Sure, let’s go to the mess though, which at least has air conditioning that works… sometimes.”

Jared follows him to a small annex, counting maybe five tables at a glance in front of an open, mid-sized kitchen. He estimates that the site can probably serve at capacity for twenty to thirty people max, given the space, which isn’t too big, but still too many to handle on his own if things get hairy.  
“So, what have we got?”, he asks, once they’ve settled into an alcove corner with coffee.  
“Basic staff is seven agents, three analysts, as you probably know and we also serve as a hub for spec ops teams from time to time for operations in country. It’s not too crowded right now, just a team of six on top of the regular staff, which is about what we get. The guys like to pitch in with their own perimeter and regular security checks while they’re here, so we get that as a bonus, but military personnel isn’t read in on the sequestered part of the base, so we keep that strictly separate.”  
“And the surrounding land is monitored with video and audio surveillance at all times?”  
“Oh yes, we have three rotations to make sure the eagle’s nest is covered round the clock. And we’re the world leader in surveillance cameras masquerading as tree bark.”  
Jared snorts a little despite himself and when Cohen returns his look with a deadpan expression, stutters: “Wait, seriously?”  
“Ha, yes, seriously, which is not as dignified as all that, but your face.”  
“Huh, yeah, looks like you got me.”

They discuss angles and coverage as well as guard rotations and Jared is just glad that setting up secure locations was a specialized task he brought over from his soldiering life so he can at least pretend he’s all up on the latest protocols, but he also takes care not to draw out their discussion too far afield.  
“Well, I don’t think the outer perimeter is the most pressing issue.”  
“You want to get right down to it, huh?”  
“I don’t see any sense in putting it off, your overall base camp security is in good hands, and the top secret floors are where all the action’s been happening, so that’s where I need to go, isn’t it?”  
“Of course, let me just make the rounds real quick and then we’ll head right down to Lindberg’s den of depravity.”  
At Jared’s puzzled look, Cohen chuckles: “Our resident tech guru and lead analyst. He’s got… a thing about alliterations among other things. It’s not quite that literal, though if you want to get down to the nitty and gritty of it, Lindberg is the man to take you into the guts of the system.”  
“Alright. I can’t wait to meet him then.”  
Cohen raps his knuckles on the table a couple of times as he gets up.  
“I’ll be right back, if you want something to eat in the meantime, just help yourself at the counter, snacks are available all day.”  
“I’m good, thanks.”

Jared watches Cohen head over to one of the other tables, occupied by three men who are clearly soldiers, though by the way they’re not adhering to the regs at all, they’re special operations for sure. He notices some mildly curious looks thrown his way over Cohen’s animated conversation, but doesn’t think anything will come of it. These men are used to keeping information about their whereabouts and purpose on the need to know and are likely to assume Jared’s business here is just as classified and off limits.

He hadn’t intended to take Cohen up on the offer to get himself something to eat, residual nausea from the flight still occasionally turning his stomach, but he hasn’t had the chance to eat something for close to a day and since his calorie intake is 20% up since he has a computer to run on top of that big brain of his, he feels the need for sustenance quite clearly in this moment. At the kitchen counter an older black man is preparing dinner, probably, and grumbles at him when he asks for a power bar. He gets a box put in front of him and told to help himself.  
Jared takes a couple of bars back to the table and uses eating them to help conceal the fact that he’s talking into thin air.

“Security _is_ organized quite well here. Assuming I get past the screening and into the admin server, I’ll really need an exit strategy, and it can’t be shooting my way out opposite a squad of Delta force operators.”  
Bakshi’s answer remains frustratingly vague: “You worry first about getting and retrieving the objective, then we’ll talk about extraction.”  
“Somehow that does not inspire great confidence in your plan and this is something you want badly after all.”  
“You don’t need confidence in my planning, you need only to worry about accomplishing your task at the moment.”  
Jared wants to gripe back, but since it won’t get him anywhere and Cohen is again on his way over, he bits his tongue.  
“I see you did raid the snack bar after all?”  
“Yeah, once you mentioned it, I realized I hadn’t eaten at all. All good now, so shall we go?”

Cohen leads to the back of the barracks into the actual thrush where a beaten path lies hidden in plain sight by the undergrowth. It’s a short way up an incline which ends in a rocky outcropping actually opening into… “wait, the actual base is in a cave?”  
Jared had known it was some kind of underground structure from the brief, but they hadn’t let on it was an honest to god cave.  
“Yeah, right? It goes down a couple of floors subterraneously, but the security lock is built right into the mouth. We didn’t want to call it the bat cave because that would have been too on the nose, so it actually became just the Lair.”  
Jared stares at it as they approach and smothers a hysterical laugh at the whole situation, trying not to feel like he’s entering the lion’s den.

For the first few steps, the cave looks like it’s a complete natural monument, but then the entrance takes a turn that isn’t immediately visible from the mouth of the cave and behind the bend, Jared is met with a metal and glass structure that seals off the entire space wall to ceiling, a partitioned entrance that looks like the high tech version of a decontamination chamber. One agent is seated in a cube of glass in front of an array of screens and Cohen greets him with an easy smile.  
“Alright, from here on out, no personal electronic devices are allowed, so you need to leave your cell phone, tablets anything, even your watch if it’s digital. Don’t worry, we can pick everything up save and sound on the way back.”  
“I don’t have anything on me, I left my cell with the pilot.”  
“Really? Well, you’re certainly the first millennial I’ve met, who isn’t chained to their phone no matter what.”

Jared realizes in that moment how suspicious that might be, but there’s nothing he can do, since he can’t very well tell Cohen that being put on official radio silence isn’t quite his choice.  
“I figured the likelihood of getting reception out here was zero to none, so what’s the point.”  
“Ha, too true. We have a fairly good Wi-Fi coverage at base, which is mostly busy with downloading intelligence packages for analysis, but for outcalls we have to use specially encoded, untraceable sat-phones, so I know what you’re talking about.”  
Cohen drops a couple of personal gear into a box the agent on watch pushes out through a flap and then steps into the security lock while he’s talking, completely unconcerned.

Jared watches as the whole frame of the lock descends from the ceiling, apparently 3D scanning Cohen and he feels his palms get clammy with cold sweat. In his ear, he hears Jensen clear his throat;  
“I’m going to lay as much of the system dormant as I can from my end; we’re only keeping basic visual and audio. No reason to take chances. Best try to move as little as you can while the scan is going on to keep processing activity to a minimum.”  
Jared answers under his breath “Copy that.” Before it’s his turn to step into the glass chamber. There’s only one thin barrier between him and the outside and two agents to handle if this goes wrong, but his breath is still dragging in his lungs, the blue tinge in his vision more aggravating all of a sudden when he’s barely registered it anymore after hours of keeping the system actively sighted.  
“Here goes nothing.”

As soon as he steps in, it feels like all the air is being sucked out of his lungs, but he makes his breaths measured and slow, since having a panic attack right now is the absolute last thing he can afford.  
“Please step on the mark in the centre of the chamber.”  
Jared startles despite himself when the agent on watch addresses him and it takes a moment for him to parse what it is that he’s supposed to be doing.  
“Don’t worry, the process is quite safe and non-invasive.”  
“I’m sorry, not… tight spaces.”  
He lets the agents draw their own conclusions about his nervous demeanour while he steps up to the mark. The greatest subterfuge after all is a partial truth or some such.  
“You’re not the first one to get a little jittery inside the lock, trust me, I know the rather advanced look of the tech can be disconcerting, but you’ll do fine, I’m sure.”  
Jared wants to laugh and reply that he’s not worried about the futuristic design of the tech but the way it’s going to interact with the much more advanced nanotechnology that makes up about 40% of his body, but he limits himself to a tight nod.

Jared tries not to follow the framework of the scanner as it passes down over his whole frame but rather to observe the agent out of the corner of his eyes. The man looks at the monitors in front of him with calm concentration until the scanner has passed all the way up again.  
“Hold please.”  
Whole process starts over again, like it hadn’t done for Cohen and a glance over to the station chief reveals a small furrow building between his eyebrows. This is clearly not standard operating procedure. Jared feels the fingers of his right hand tick minutely, wondering whether he should try and punch through the glass and overwhelm Cohen, but strong-arming this mission has an abysmal chance of working out for any of them, which makes it a last resort.  
“Everything alright?”  
The agent flicks his eyes up to Cohen and back to the monitors, clearly unsure about the readings.  
“There’s an… unusual electro-magnetic signature, it’s not… it doesn’t match any indication of digital devices, but it’s outside of normal levels.”  
Jared swallows with a click in his throat, trying to give the impression that he’s completely unaware of what might be the cause of such an out of the ordinary reading.  
“Oh, so, what now?”  
“We can’t clear you to enter the facility as long as that’s not identified and deemed non-critical interference. Remove your suit-jacket and roll up your sleeves, please.”

Since no one has started shooting yet, Jared judges that his best bet is to go along with things for the moment. It’s not unreasonable to assume that there would be some kind of reaction from the security system, he just has to keep calm and make sure that they don’t recognize the anomaly as something that is actually a breach, so he complies, placing the jacket folded up in front of him and rolling up his sleeves as far as they will go.  
“Stand up straight please and keep your arms stretched out in front of you.”  
Jared tracks the scanner frame slowly swooshing down around him for a third time and hopes the sweat beading on his forehead looks like a combination of the high temperature combined with the natural nervousness of not getting through security without a hitch as promised. As long as he has no idea what the agent is seeing or rather, how he’s interpreting it, he can’t take action one way or the other.

Cohen taps his foot lightly, clearly as thrown by the unexpected hitch in the proceedings as Jared himself. He locks eyes with the agent and lifts his eyebrow while the other man is studying the results of the third scan.  
“It’s centred on your right forearm, but it’s still not identifiable as some kind of restricted device and sight inspection clearly shows there’s nothing on you that would trip the scan, so I can’t explain the read-outs, except if you had something inside your arm that would cause the anomaly.”  
The agent looks to Cohen then, clearly deferring to him on what to do with that information, since it basically implies that Jared might have hidden a device of some kind inside his arm, which under normal circumstances would be way out there. Jared permits himself a small chuckle before playing his trump card.  
“Ah, well, looks like I have an explanation then, possibly.”  
All eyes are on him in a second.  
“You do?”  
“Yes, yes, there’s in fact something in my arm that might be the culprit here… a metal bone graft to be precise, lots of plates and screws, you don’t really want to know the details, a souvenir from my military service – but it’s made out of a very high tech new titanium alloy, or so the medical professionals told me. It should be in my file, you can check. Could that be what causes these readings?”

Jared knows the information will definitely in the file because Jensen has outfitted all the legends to his new identities with some form of the injury since he’s gone into the mercenary business, for while he doesn’t fly, there’s still lots of situations where he might find himself going through checkpoints and metal detectors which might be tripped by his… unusual prosthetics. It hasn’t happened so far, but given the sophistication of the security here it’s not surprising that it did. Now, he only has to sell it to the agents that there is actually nothing more nefarious going on. The moment stays on knife’s edge and if Jared didn’t know better, he’s be sure he can hear the bated breath in his ear. He wills his face to remain open and neutral while he waits for the agent to search the records.

“The files confirm the information - and a substantial amount of non-organic material under his skin such as a that could be an explanation for that scan. But as long as we can’t pinpoint it is as the cause 100%, I’ll have to log it as an incident, even if he goes through.”  
“What does that mean?” Jared asks levelly.  
Cohen dismisses any worries with a flick of his hand.  
“We keep a record of all entrances and exits, especially those with irregularities. It’ll get a note that will come up in the review, but I’ll deal with the top floor about it. It would be much more embarrassing if we had to send their security consultant back sight unseen, because someone didn’t do their research, right? And it’s not like you’ll be working here unsupervised.”  
Jared forces a smile on his face, thinking of how the top floor is likely going to have much more pressing questions before he’s through here, even though Cohen inadvertently touched on a major flaw in the plan that they still need to find a solution for.

For the first time Jared wonders in earnest what exactly this operation here is set up to do. He doesn’t want to get this guy in trouble through no fault of his own and dreads even thinking about what Bakshi - or possibly his elusive buyers - might get up to once he has the information he wants. But no matter what, he’s not quite ready to lay his life down for an unknown, instead putting his faith in Jensen and his ability to find an opening in this mess.  
“Does that mean I get to step out of this fish bowl now?”  
Cohen nods to the agent and the glass parts almost soundlessly to let him through to the other side.

Jared walks through the partition to follow Cohen down a short, squat corridor and then stops abruptly at the sight before him.  
“Yeah, it’s something, isn’t it?”  
“Yes, … it is.”  
In front of him there opens a singular, natural looking gorge that works like a funnel. Daylight filters down from above and Jared steps up to the ledge, looking up. The cave walls bulge out and then draw in again, leaving about a six foot opening up top through which foliage and the sky are visible. Bakshi’s agents never got past the security lock, so the layout intel past that point was sketchy at best, which is why Jared is not prepared for how beautiful it is, water falling down from the opening in small drops.  
“It’s closed off, I presume?”  
“Yes, of course. A special polymer mesh that is anchored right into the rock. It’s water permeable, but too narrow to let bugs through - all kinds - though it’s unlikely someone would stumble on it by accident; it’s naturally concealed so you’d have to know it’s there. And you can basically drop an ACME anvil on the cover from a hundred feet up and it would just bounce back in your face. The water coming through is collected on the bottom floor like a cistern, which is our independent fresh water source as well as being hooked into the cooling system for all the fancy serverbanks down here.”

Jared looks down and finds the bottom of the gorge completely covered in water, moved into tiny ripples by the continuously falling drops.  
“Won’t there be an issue with flooding when there’s strong rainfall?”  
“Nah, there’s a fully automated drainage system making sure to keep the levels at all times, diverting excess water into the tanks for use or down into the stream, while incidentally also generating some electrical power on the side.”  
“Well, whoever designed this place clearly put a great deal of thought into it.”

He made sure to get a good look at everything, knowing Jensen would appreciate the view. There were at least three floors, corridors open to the centre, outfitted with the type of glass slat windows one commonly found in tropical environments. They are slanted downwards to let the incoming rain and condensation drip down into the cistern.  
“We can close the slats fully and seal her up tight, if there’s too much precipitation at once, but usually, that’s not an issue,” a new voice drawled from the left, making Jared whip his head around.  
The man, who had approached rather silently, is thin as a bean pole, dressed in a ratty T-shirt and shorts, face as pointy and thin as the wiry rest of him, but his eyes move about with quick intelligence.  
“Lindberg, one of these days, I’m putting a bell on you,” Cohen grouses. “Samuel Walker, this is our lead tech Chad Lindberg.”  
“Pleased to meet you,” Jared responds with a handshake that is met firmly.  
“So, you were sent to get us into shipshape, huh?”  
He senses the underlying sentiment isn’t quite friendly and curses Bakshi again in his mind for dropping him into what seems to be developing into a serious case of office politics on top of the infiltration. He usually gets on with all kinds of people well enough, but having to charm the socks off all those intelligence types is draining.

“To be honest, I’m beginning to think I was sent here to write a glowing report that the brass can shop around to pat themselves on the back. This is quite the operation you’ve got going here.”  
Lindberg looks momentarily stunned, then mollified and Cohen laughs behind him.  
“Yeah, it looks like this is going to be way less painful than we anticipated,” revealing that he hadn’t made a secret of his opinion before Jared’s arrival.  
Jared feels sick to his stomach to be misleading these men, who for all intends and purposes are just doing their job to keep their nation save. Even though he had little choice in the matter, to protect his own life, part of him has hoped that he would fail at some point, just not being as good at the game as he is apparently turning out to be. It just feels wrong.  
“Well then,” Lindberg answers with a grin spreading his lips slowly, giving his face something boyish. “Want to see the toys then?”  
Jared doesn’t trust himself to say anything so he just gestures for Lindberg to lead the way.

~*~

Jensen is glad that the peanut gallery has been fairly silent while Jared works his way inside the compound. He had gone actually lightheaded from the tension in the time Jared has been stuck in that glass cube, fingers straining to do something and knowing that any action he took could only tip the precarious balance the wrong way.  
He takes in the inner workings of the base as Jared looks at them with stunned fascination. Each floor looks like the walkways has been carved directly into the rock which slanted paths connecting the floors to each other in a vague helix shape.

Jensen listens with one ear how the tech explains that the upper floors house storage rooms for weapons and communication equipment and points out the placement of various surveillance cameras and sensors that are angled frustratingly well to canvas the whole site, while Jared makes approving noises to keep at least a thin veneer of his security consultant cover intact.  
“Come one, come on. Get to that server room.”  
He tries not to slip into running commentary when Jared can hear him because it’s very distracting, but Jared seems to have picked up on it either way.  
“This is all very impressive, but I’d like to get to the heart of the operation now if you don’t mind. After all, even though the outside defences have held up very well to the attempted breaches, that’s not the only point of entry someone might try. So cyber security is just as important to review as physical precautions.”

Lindberg starts walking down toward supposedly the secure server rooms while answering:  
“You’ll see that operational security on the online side of things is taken just as seriously as entry to the site, which is why the whole system is partitioned into two entities. There’s the collection centre where all the raw data is accumulated and fed into the data banks as well as indexed. And then there’s the analytics branch which is air gapped, so it has absolutely no data connection to the outside world and therefore can’t be hacked. And since it’s obviously the brains of the operation, you can only access it with administrative authorization.”  
Lindberg stops in front of a door and bends down slightly to allow the lock to perform a retinal scan. Jensen’s mind begins to whir with implications he hasn’t truly thought about till now, amid a baseline disbelief that they’d even make it this far. But now he realized that there’s a fundamental flaw in the approach, which is that Jared’s never going to be left alone in that server room to get a chance to look for that algorithm Bakshi is after. They need to figure out a way to get the agents out of there while leaving the door open for Jared to get at the server terminal.

“Jay, first chance you get, I need you to make direct eye contact with Lindberg for as long as you can, but at least three seconds.”  
Jensen has no way to know whether Jared understands what he’s trying to do, since they don’t have the benefit of a mirror surface now, but he counts on Jared trusting his judgement.  
“I know we’re going into deep source code territory, which isn’t a field you can just wing it in front of a high level CIA tech, so I’m going to coach you through any issues and you just have to repeat what I tell you, alright? We got this.”  
Jared can’t give him the all clear verbally, but they’ve stepped through the reinforced door into a room full of lazily blinking server banks encased in glass cabinets and Jensen catches Jared’s reflection in one, getting a curt nod in response. He takes it for what it is and goes about writing a supplemental protocol for Jared’s visual processing unit.

“What do you think you’re doing, Dr. Ackles?”  
Bakshi’s voice cuts through his working fugue and his fingers still on the keyboard with a twitch, since he’d actually forgotten the man was there for a minute.  
“Running your operation apparently. I need to write another patch for the visual system, since the visual information processed by his reconstructed eye is normally only stored in RAM for as long as it takes to send it into the neuronal network, where the images are stored or lost like any other memory. However, to be able to record anything, I need to create a new function that converts a certain stretch of visual information into a readable data file that you can actually extract at some point, since the system itself is not set up as your very own internal go pro. Seriously, the amount of things you haven’t thought through in this is just baffling.”  
He hears the smirk in Bakshi’s voice: “I have absolute confidence in your abilities, Dr. Ackles, but might I remind you that our deal involves you narrating in real time what you’re doing? Don’t make me insist on it again.”  
Jensen scowls, frustrated, since he’s also hoping to use this instance to manoeuvre another part of his additional code in place, but he nods all the same.

~*~

Lindberg has sidled up to an elevated terminal in the back of the room that is surrounded by an array of oversized screens. He pulls what looks like a plain RFID card out of his pocket and feeds it into the terminal. It seems to wake up the computer, blue veins lighting up the card like the conduits on a microchip as soon as it settles halfway in the slot. The screens only take seconds to light up and then Lindberg is bending over another camera on the side of the terminal; another retinal scan to authorize access, clearly. That’s when Jared realizes why Jensen wants him to make eye contact. He’s working to get the scan so Jared can get access again later by himself, however they’re actually going to accomplish that. His attention is momentarily caught by the myriad of graphs and documents opening up on the screens in front of him. Nearest he can tell, it looks like an array of exchange information, market predictions, stock prices; the sort of this he has seen flash on economic news many times. Though in this case, all the identifiers are encoded, so he can’t actually place the information in the context of specific companies or enterprises.

While he still tries to make heads and tails of it, Jensen’s voice suddenly sounds in his ear:  
“What you need to do, is send in your men to mount an assault on the compound.”  
And it’s only his earlier preoccupation that saves him from instantly parroting the words like Jensen had instructed him to.  
However, the “What…?” escapes while the rest of his brain is still busy unpacking Jensen’s statement.  
“Absolutely not!” Bakshi’s voice rings out sharply.  
“You had a question?” Lindberg is looking at him in askance and Jared stares back in baffled silence for a beat, two, trying to hold to two entirely different conversations together in his head while the moment stretches into serious awkwardness. He makes himself snap out of it with a blink when Lindberg starts to frown in earnest.  
“I’m sorry, I meant, what am I looking at?”  
“Jay, that was perfect, we got it. Now, we need a distraction for you to get a chance to have a go at that computer in private. And it needs to be now, because the longer we keep him in there, the more likely his cover is going to be blown.”  
“And you think I don’t realize that sending in my men against a squad of Deltas might just be the opening you’re looking for to try and run your own interference?”  
“Do you want that algorithm, or not?”

Lindberg answers over the verbal skirmish going on in Jared’s earshot: “I can’t go into detail considering your clearance, but basically, it’s a cartload of very specific economic data, curated and analysed for use. What we receive as input in the collection centre gets fed manually into the system on a regular basis after it’s indexed and we package the calculations into briefs according to inquiries, which come in mostly from the US intelligence services. Circle of life.”

Thankfully, the bickering in the back of his head has stopped for the moment, with his ‘passengers’ apparently being quite fascinated by Lindberg’s statement, but Jared is well on his way to developing a splitting headache from all the crosstalk. Though, since screaming at everyone to shut up is not an option, he grasps for the question that will address all parties equally.  
“That’s very interesting. So, what comes next?”  
Lindberg beams up at him with a mischievous glint in his eye.  
“Want me to lock up the system and take a crack at the firewall, see if you get anywhere with it?”

Jared reminds himself that there’s an extensive IT background built into his fake profile and tries to make appropriate noises of interest, especially since the actual expert in his ear has gone suspiciously quiet, which can only mean that the negotiations are probably still going on in mute mode. For a moment, he actually puts his consultant hat on to marvel at the tight-knit security on this system.  
“You really take no chances, do you? With a no admissions policy on personal electronics of all kinds, an airgap, two tier authentication and internal firewalls… this thing has more defences than Fort Knox, and it’s better hidden.”  
Lindberg turns to him visibly proud:  
“Well, you don’t want to pull your punches when you basically built a Bloomberg terminal for the global black market movement of illicit goods and funds.”  
The statement sits for a moment in Jared’s mind when it lands and does not compute. He doesn’t get the chance to process it one way or another before Cohen’s alarmed “Lindberg!!” startles them out of a stunned silence.

Lindberg’s sheet white face confirms for Jared that this is one of the specifics his fake security clearance was **not** supposed to cover. He helplessly tries to diffuse the suddenly volatile situation with a chuckle.  
“Ah well, wow, I won’t tell if you don’t?”  
Meanwhile his brain is actually running a mile a minute to parse the implications, of a federal intelligence agency analysing an apparently huge amount of data on what? Drug trafficking, human trafficking, weapon’s smuggling, probably cash flow for all sorts of illicit and criminal activities and… possibly acting on it, like some kind of stock exchange? His anxiety is ramping up another notch because he really didn’t want to know those specific details.  
Jared and Jensen have now gone from disposable assets to serious liabilities in seconds flat.  
Before he can even begin to figure out how to try and placate the two agents and salvage the operation somehow, the lights suddenly dim to a menacing red and a claxon starts blaring over their heads. The intercom at the terminal crackles to life with the voice of the agent on duty spewing all kinds of SOP code phrases around that basically all amount to the shit hitting the fan really hard outside.

Jensen chooses the conceivably most inopportune moment to come back on in Jared’s ear while both Lindberg and Cohen scramble to lock up the station.  
“Jay, they’re going to keep the camp occupied as long as possible, but you _need_ to get that RFID card before Lindberg scampers off into the fray and then you need to get lost in the chaos so you can circle back around here. I’ll help you break into that admin terminal, but we’ll have to move fast.”  
Jared scrambles to follow Lindberg who has already locked up the terminal with a couple of keystrokes and just has the wherewithal to witness him pulling the card and shoving it into a side pockets of his cargo shorts before he’s off towards the door after Cohen. The young station chief is already running full tilt through the corridor towards the exit, presumably to meet up with the agent on guard to find out more about what’s happening and devise a strategy. Lindberg however, is veering off towards the higher floor and Jared follows him half on autopilot, trying to figure out how to get to that card without the analyst noticing.

“Where are you going? Shouldn’t we go for the exit?”  
“Like I said before, there’s a cache of weapons stored up here, I don’t normally carry and I’m not going out to rumble in the jungle without at least one of the big guns on me.”  
Which, Jared has to concede, is a good point. They stop in front of a non-descript door and Lindberg whips out the card again to try and push it into a slot at the door.  
“What, no retina scan up here?”  
“N…no, that’s just for the really, highly sensitive entrances, here it’s just those shitty, damn cards that open everything, if I can just get that blasted thing in there.”  
Jared watches him try again, hands shaking badly so the card won’t fit quite right into the reader. He can’t believe what he’s about to do.  
“Here, let me?”

Lindberg looks at him for a beat then down at his very steady offered hand and then gives the card to Jared, who slots it in on the first try. Lindberg muscles his way through the door as soon as it’s barely open.  
“Have you been in a firefight before?” Jared asks to distract the tech from the fact that he’s conveniently forgetting to give the card back while Lindberg is standing front of a wall of mounted guns, obviously at a loss at what to pick.  
“I’ve gone shooting at the range at regular intervals and passed all the requisite marksmanship tests as scheduled?”  
“So… how about you stay here then, while I go and help our guys out there out?”  
“I … I couldn’t do that, I’ve been trained for this, I should be able to…”  
“Listen, for what it’s worth, you’re probably the most valuable brain in this compound, aren’t you? So to protect the system, it wouldn’t be a good idea to put you in the line of fire, right?”  
“I… guess?”  
“And I used to be a soldier, trust me, this is not my first rodeo.”  
The words taste like ash and bile in his mouth, but he gets them out all the same, since the possibility for Lindberg as an untested combatant to actually get himself killed or at least wounded out there by accident is astronomical, even if Bakshi’s men are delicate about threating life and limb as little as possible with their assault – for which he’s not holding his breath.

Jared selects an M16 which he doesn’t intend to keep for show, shoves a handgun and a couple of spare mags in his waistband and on a whim grabs one of mobile SAT phones sitting on a top shelf while pointedly not looking at what he’s doing.  
He turns to Lindberg one last time with a placating gesture:  
”Ok, just make sure you latch the door securely after I’m gone and don’t open it again on your own until someone comes for you with a passkey, got it?”  
“Alright, be safe out there ok?”  
Jared hopes his grin doesn’t come out quite as lopsided as it feels on his face: “You got it.”

He closes the door on Lindberg before he can think about it again and hastens down to the server room entrance. A quick glance into the exit corridor shows no movement, indicating that Cohen and the second probably left already or at least are holding down the entrance on the outside of the security lock. Jared makes his way down and stops in front of the locked door.  
"So, I'm back, how do I do this?"

Jensen answers immediately: "Just a second I have to overlay the scan from Lindberg over your own, I don't know how the scanner is going to react to the artificial background so there's a chance it'll be rejected at first, but if that happens I should be able to adjust it.”  
"Should be? You're not inspiring a whole lot of confidence here. We barely have any time."  
"I know, believe me, I know alright? I'm working on it. Ok, OK, you can try now, make sure you move as little as possible and don't blink if you can help it."  
Jared steels himself for a moment and then bends in front of the scanner, holding his breath while the scanning laser is running over his face. He tries not to think about the fact that his artificial eye is pretending to be another person right now and still feels as much of a freak as he hasn't in a long time. The lock beams and blinks 'access denied' at him and his anxiety ramps up another notch while Jensen curses "Damnit, wait, wait, I got this." in his ear.

~*~

Jensen's fingers fly over the keyboard with lightning speed, trying to adjust the angle and position of the scan on the screen before he's mirroring it to Jared's eye again. He can feel Bakshi's coiled tension right next to him and even the aloof hacker chick in the corner is bending forward with the inevitable pull of the moment, though both are blessedly silent.  
"Here, this should…, try again!"  
"Are you sure? If this thing works like a cell phone lock and shuts down with the third failed try, we don't have room to spare."  
"Yes, yes, I'm sure," Jensen works hard to keep his actual insecurity about of his voice because Jared doesn't need that right now and watches as he positions himself in front of the scanner again.

They all hold their collective breath as the laser fans again over Jared's face and makes the journey back up. And this time, there's a beep and the lock screen flashes 'Access granted' before it disengages and the door clicks open. Jared doesn't waste a beat and wriggles past the sliding door. He only throws a short glance over his shoulder to make sure it's closing up again so he won't have unexpected company without the warning of the lock disengaging. The room is too well insulated for the sound and possibly explosions to travel inside, so when Jensen hears the pop-pop-pop of automatic rifles he whips his head around.  
"Don't worry, Dr. Ackles, I've instructed Miss Okuda to hack into the compound’s security feeds to monitor the situation on the ground outside. You just keep on doing what you’re doing.”  
Jared is a step further already, he has inserted the card and successfully passed the retina scan on the first try this time, and now he’s looking at the lit up array of screens, waiting for Jensen’s guidance.  
Jensen takes a deep breath and tells himself to quit thinking about the possible lives at stake, blot out all the distractions, take it one step at a time and put in place the final stage of his plan to give Jared an out along with leverage to barter himself a new life.

“OK, listen, we’re going to have to open a way to the root directory to get to the underlying programming. Look for an icon or taskbar that might be settings, yes, right there, klick on that. Ok, I’m going do all the coding here and push it through your visual feed, and I need to follow my instructions and type the text that you see into the terminal exactly as it appears to you, can you do that?”  
“I think so. I’ll do my best.”  
“Ok, for you to be able to read and type at the same time, I’m going to have to simulate a split screen in a way, it’s going to be jarring, but you need to power through and stay on point.”  
“Got it, is this the right directory?”  
“Yes, let me see what’s happening there.”

The window Jared has managed to open pops across the central screen and there is of course a passphrase being asked for administrator access. Even though Jensen doesn’t really want to change anything and just needs visual access for Jared to record the coveted algorithm while they scroll down, it’s more than likely that if he patches a way around the ask, the systems internal security systems will be on their asses in a second.  
“Ok, we don’t have a way to find the passcode which means I’ll have to create a bypass, which will tickle the firewall. We’ll have to move fast ok?”  
“Faster is better.”

Jensen can’t help but chuckle, he cracks his knuckles and wonders how much fun it would actually be to try this for legitimate purposes, but the thought is there and gone when he puts his hands back down onto the keyboard. Jared types the code in under the passphrase and as expected, it trips an internal alarm, protocols opening up right where he left of and instead of trying to fight it, he lets the firewall do its job, piggybacking onto those very same protocols to lead him where security is the tightest, which is right at the heart of the system, the underlying programming structure. At the same time he drops several lines of code in, bracketed by specific tags that will make them utterly useless in the race to get to that algorithm, but will trip several of the subroutines he’s programmed earlier.  
“Ok, I’ve identified the place where the most important protocols are stored, now it’s time to demolish that firewall and see what’s actually in the guts of this thing.”  
Which is just what he proceeds in doing.

~*~

Jared concentrates on typing as fast as his fingers allow, even though he isn’t quite sure if at some point the fingers of his artificial right hand haven’t gone off on their own to transfer the visual input directly onto the keyboard, but there’s no time to dwell on that because Jensen is constantly in his ear, half shouting instructions to jump from one window to the next, lines and lines of code just streaming through his fingers until suddenly another one pops up and a script is running down the page without any more input for him to type up and Jensen whoops triumphantly in his ear.  
“This is it, now I have to configure the data file and then you have to go back and scroll through it once completely without blinking to make sure every bit of the code gets stored in your visual memory, alright?”  
“Yes, I can do that.”  
There’s something in Jensen’s voice that’s off, tickling an instinct in the back of Jared’s head and he knows with absolute certainty that Jensen really put something together on the side, but likely has no way to tell him what his plan entails without giving himself away.  
“Ok, now just relax and be as still as possible while the recording’s running.”  
“I will, I trust you.”

~*~

Jensen suddenly feels lightheaded since those might very well be the last words Jared ever gets to say to him. If that bears out, he could hardly have chosen a better goodbye, but while the algorithm is doing very complicated things, it’s not actually a very long script and he has to hit the right moment before it’s completely run down or Bakshi will have a full copy on the mirror feed and any kind of bargaining chip they might have will be useless.  
“Thanks Jay, and remember, whatever happens, you’ll be ok. Don’t come for me.”  
Before anyone can react to what he said, Jensen hits a special key combination that executes all the protocols he painstakingly set up and he feels his breath leave his lungs in a punch when the screens in front of him abruptly turn black and his whole system powers down.  
“What’s happening, get the feed back up… what did you do?”

Bakshi grabs him by the collar and his voice goes low and menacing when he seems to catch on to what Jensen did.  
“Not a chance. I cut the ties of the system on all levels. We’re dead in the water and he’s completely autonomous.”  
Bakshi turns to his hacker who looks at her screen and then shakes her head to indicate that the mirror feed is cut as well and they don’t have the full documentation of the algorithm. The punch that breaks something in his cheek and snaps his head back into whiplash surprises him, even though it shouldn’t. He coughs dazedly while Bakshi shakes out his hand with blood-covered knuckles and nods at the goon still holding a gun on Jensen to order him securely bound to the chair again. He takes out his smartphone as Jensen anticipated and he interjects as fast as he can.  
“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”  
“Oh, of course you wouldn’t, but I told you what would happen if you crossed me and now your partner dies.”  
“And with him you bury any chance to ever get at that algorithm you so desperately want. Because he’s the only source for the full package now.”

Bakshi hesitates for a moment and then confirms he’s the businessman Jensen pecked him for, putting down his phone for the moment.  
“Alright, I’m listening, you seem to have planned this quite meticulously, which is impressive, I must admit. I’m sure you have a bargain in mind.”  
“You give me credible assurances that you won’t ever go after him again once this business is concluded and I will arrange for communication to extract the file from his memory and get it delivered to you. And then I’ll come work for you.”  
There’s a beat of silence while Bakshi’s eyebrows creep up higher and higher on his forehead.  
“My, my, that is a very unexpected and interesting offer. Though you hold all the chips here, why not bargain for both your lives?”  
Jensen looks him squarely in the eye, having considered the angles of his proposal very carefully.  
“Because nothing would keep you from going after us again even if you got what you wanted, this way I’ll be able to make sure you keep your end of the deal.”  
“Oh, you think you would be able to do that, really?”  
“I just cracked one of the world’s most sophisticated firewalls with one hand tied behind my back while simultaneously planting code to disengage a very delicate system from its base of operations, right under your noses. Yeah, I would be able to do that.”

Bakshi looks undecided and Jensen makes himself be very still while the man weighs his options. He’s said his piece and it’s not likely he can do anymore to sway his captor one way or another.  
“Your proposal does have its definite perks, however, it all still hinges on the very low probability of your partner actually finding his way out of that compound without landing right in the clutches of the CIA now, doesn’t it.”  
“I assure you, he’ll get out in one piece.” Hopefully.  
“Yes, yes, but still, I have a theory I’m inclined to test. Your offer isn’t off the table, mind you, but if I’m right, I’ll get what I’m after much faster and less complicated. But in the meantime, I can’t have you devising more schemes with that big beautiful brain of yours, so I’m afraid we’ll have to miss your company for the time being.”  
Jensen doesn’t really get where Bakshi is going with this until he sees the man cut his eyes up over his head and what follows is a searing pinch in his neck and everything going indistinctly fuzzy after a few seconds. Before he drifts off completely, he just hears Bakshi say one last thing:  
“I’ll bet good money that all we need to do is just wait here for him to come to us. Eyes on the price.”

~*~

Jared doesn’t move as the rest of the algorithm is still flashing by in front of his eyes. There is nothing he can do after all, since he has no way to see Jensen, but once he fully understands what Jensen just said and the deafening silence that’s ringing in his ears, he knows something is wrong, very wrong.  
“Jen? Jensen, are you still there?” Protocols be damned, he can’t deal with this alone. “Jensen, say something?!”  
There’s no response and Jared begins to realize that for the first time in more than three years, he seems to be truly alone in his own head. The amount of anxiety that hits him is stunning, since he’d felt most violated concerning his privacy when Jensen first told him that about forty percent of his body were being run by a very sophisticated computer all those years ago. But he finds that he hasn’t only adapted, he’s truly become to rely on their constant exchange; their connection gaining something of an intimacy that he hadn’t really appreciated until it got cut off just now. Jensen told him not to come for him, so this has been not a surprise event from his side, he’d really been planning this, even though Jared never in a million years would have assumed he did.

But whatever else is going on here or on the other end of the severed connection, he does not have the luxury of time for a panic attack. Every second more he spends in here closes the window of distraction that the assault on the facility has created and might bar his exit. First he has to get out of here and then he has to figure out how to get to Jensen. He tugs the RFID card out of the terminal, heedless of the hard reset that causes, since he’s not quite sure what the situation outside is and whether he might need it. Then he runs to the door, barely stopping himself from barrelling right through it without caution. Instead, he moves sideways with it slowly as it slides open, gun drawn before peeking into the corridor beyond, which is blessedly empty.

Jared bounds over to the part of the tunnel that leads towards the security lock and takes another peek around the corner. Rapid gunfire is already audible and he sees Cohen and the guard agent hunkered down behind the desk in the cube which is already pockmarked bullets, with the antiballistic glass holding so far. They can’t shoot back, but right now they’re also not in any danger of getting hurt. However, if he tries to go out that way, all he’ll get is a gunfight and there’s little chance of Cohen agreeing to open the lock to let him out, making the position vulnerable. He has no hope to get away from there, so he has to find a different exit strategy. He misses Jensen something fierce in the moment and realizes once more how much he’s come to rely on their frequent banter, which often enough turned into very workable solutions for the problem at hand. Casting around for a way out, Jared finally looks up at the natural exit of the cave. Of course, Cohen said that virtually nothing can get through the mesh from above, but in Jared’s experience, people building things, even if they are doing top secret government black sites, rarely account with the same kind of care for the directions they don’t expect threats to come from.

He makes a split second decision and runs up the path to the upper levels as close as he can get to the hole. Thankfully, the last level is basically ceiling height, so when he climbs up on the railing and nudges out the window slats to create an opening to the inside, he can just about reach the metal struts that anchor the mesh covering into the stone. It’s affixed with some heavy duty screws, and while those would be completely out of reach for someone coming at it from the outside, they’re readily accessible from below and if Jared can just loosen a couple of them, he might be able to pry loose the mesh and create an opening that way.

He grabs one of the large screws with his right hand and puts all his strength behind trying to turn it, neuronal feedback lighting up his nerves like the afterimage of pain. For a moment he’s sure he’s not going to be able to move that bastard, but then from one second to the next, it’s like screwing the top of a pickle jar. A grinding noise sounds loud in his ears and then the heavy steel bolt slowly turns in his hand. He lets go of a yell that is equal parts exertion and euphoria and with a few more turns the screw has about half an inch of give. Now that he knows he can do it, the next ones seem to go faster and he has loosened the two corners he can reach. It’s enough to wriggle his fingers underneath the edge of the mesh, while he firmly plants his feet and holds himself on the upper edge with his left hand, he gives the fabric a mighty tug. Without the hypertension on the material it rips surprisingly easy and he almost overbalances, taking a tumble down into the gorge, catching himself barely in time before he falls. But the opening is there now and he doesn’t permit himself to think about it for more than a second, bending his knees and letting the strength of his enhanced legs widen his jump up, just in reach of the ledge until he dangles there for another precarious beat with his feet swinging in open air before finding a secure handhold so he can heave himself up through the opening.

Jared gives himself just a couple of seconds to catch his breath outside before drawing his gun again and orienting himself to the sounds of regular gunshots still ringing through the jungle so he can circle around that mess with prejudice. As soon as he’s reasonably sure that he’s hit the same access road he and Cohen came in on, he falls into a mile-eating run. His fancy suit is just about the most flashy outfit possible in this environment so camouflage isn’t an option, which leaves legging it out of there on the most unimpeded road at the highest speed possible. He lets his upgraded legs carry him off at top speed, even though the dress shoes are conceivably the worst kind of footwear for the undertaking and start chafing murderously after about half a mile. As the distance grows and the sounds of the skirmish get fainter and vanish even to his keen hearing, he spares half a thought to the people still stuck there and hopes that Bakshi at least has the sense to call of his goons at some point. He has no way to help the agents right now without compromising himself, so he just has to accept that for the moment.

Even his technologically supported lungs and heart are pumping heavily when the jungle suddenly recedes and the helicopter appears in front of him with lazily spinning rotors. He puts in another burst of speed regardless, yelling at the pilot to prepare for lift off as if the hounds of hell were after him – which for all that he knows, might not be that far off. He tumbles into the aircraft at barely reduced speed, telling the pilot to get out as fast as possible and thankfully finding no trace of his minder who must be off with the others to hit the compound. Before the helicopter actually lifts off and the flight basically knocks him out, Jared whips open the SAT-phone and types in a number he hopes to be piece together correctly from memory. When the line connects and the expected voice answers on the other end, he takes a deep breath: “Sir, this is Samuel Walker, yes, yes…, about that favour? I really need your help, right now.”

~*~

_He blinks into the sunlight filtering slowly through the window, watching the little motes of dust flit around in the air, like daytime fairy lights. His limbs feel heavy, sluggish, and he has no drive to get out of bed, idly brushing his fingers over the sheets. The ocean breeze is ruffling the mosquito net and he can hear gulls calling into the early morning outside. It’s as peaceful as his life has ever been in the past three years and yet a special kind of unease sits in the pit of his stomach that doesn’t fit at all with the serenity of his surroundings. Maybe the sunlight is just a little too bright in his eyes, or not bright enough, the bird calls sounding just a little too sharp in his ears._

_It’s this inexplicable restlessness that finally drives him out of bed, and he pats through the door of their two bedroom cabin into the living space with an attached kitchen/dining area. One corner looks like a high powered player’s den, the array of screens he uses to work and monitor Jared showing static, like the signal has been cut. He wonders for a moment what happened to the back-up system, but the thought floats away with the scent of coffee that draws him towards the kitchen counter. A cup sits there with steam wafting up, the porcelain warming his fingers with just the right drinking temperature, clearly left for him with some kind of unworldly timing, and it’s perfect, with just a small splash of milk, but still leaves a peculiar aftertaste in his mouth. Cradling the mug to his lips, he looks around the room once more. Everything is in its proper place, but somehow still rubbing him the wrong way.  
The atmosphere is empty, stale. _

_Since it’s clear that the other occupant of this space isn’t currently in it, he walks towards the back entrance to check whether Jared is out running on the beach. He finds him right on the back porch instead, leaning on the railing with his own cup in both hands, looking out across the small strip of sand towards the breaking waves. Jensen stops for a moment to look his fill, with Jared only wearing sweatpants and the moving shadows playing over his muscled back. He catalogues all the little patches of pale, shivery skin, shrapnel wounds that had been too minor to bother with when Jensen first got Jared in his care and that he hadn’t gotten around to fixing before they had to flee._

_They’ve healed into a map on Jared’s skin that inexplicably calls for Jensen to touch, trace his fingers along the slightly raised lines. Jared indulges him, mostly, since his beef has always been first and foremost with the scars no one but himself is able to see. Jensen still makes sure to move closer in an angle, where Jared will see him in his peripheral vision well before any touch connects. He isn’t particularly interested in a repeat performance of the last time he was careless that way._

_Jared’s eyes move towards him when he enters his field of vision, but he stays still otherwise, permission explicit. Jensen puts his coffee cup down on the small table next to the stairs before reaching out, the pads of his fingers connecting with warm, slightly raised skin without further thought. Even though he doesn’t put any pressure into the touch, he feels a shiver run down Jared’s back. He’s known that skin, the expanse of muscles slick with heat and arousal – three years is a long time to be on the run with only one person to completely trust, and sometimes they just have to blow off steam, relax with no more strings attached – sometimes with anxiety, even pain, which he tried his best to alleviate. He’s done his share of fixing Jared up, even beyond those frantic first hours when his life hung in the balance, but all those moments weren’t times for tender explorations like this._

_“It’s not pretty, isn’t it?”  
Jensen stills when Jared’s voice shatters the little bubble around them.  
“Not exactly, but it’s not supposed to be. It’s impressive.”  
“Really?” comes the sarcastic reply.  
“Hmhmm, shows that you lived a life of service, sacrifice. Tells the story of how you got where you are.”  
“Does it now?”  
Jensen nods, aware of all the emotions that are packed into this one sentence – pain, guilt, regret, relief, gratitude.  
“It makes you human.”  
He lost in thought for a moment, fingers continuing to move almost absentmindedly. _

_He doesn’t regret saving Jared’s life – or any of the other servicemen and –women for that matter – but he’s come around to Jared’s perspective a lot more and accepts the moral responsibility of having made a decision about their bodies without their consent. He’s always been in the grey and comfortable there, and Jared’s made him realize that they’re probably never going to see eye to eye completely on this no matter how spectacularly well Jared’s adapted, considering.  
But that’s alright – big decisions always leave complicated ends and no easy answers.  
What matters to him is that Jared’s here to apply his rather decisive compass of right and wrong to the world. _

_Unfocused by his musings, Jensen follows a deeply buried want then, drawing closer to Jared’s shoulder blade until his lips brush over one of the scars. He looks up into Jared’s eyes as he turns his head, sees the words written clear across his face_ Do you really want to go there? _and doesn’t want to burden himself with an answer right now, just live in the moment and see where it takes him._

_Jared half turns, strong fingers lacing over Jensen’s forearm, eyes roaming over his face. If he really looks for it, Jensen can just about see the electric blue shimmer in the back of Jared’s left pupil – and for a moment, he feels like Jared is going to push, determined to have this out now once and for all. But then something yields, and he lets go of Jensen’s arm to put both his hands on Jensen’s face, fingers sliding messily into his hair, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones and drags him up for a kiss, a clash, an invasion really, that sweeps Jensen over and under, nerves firing in all directions. He feels weightless for a moment, a thought niggling in the back of his head, whispering that something isn’t quite right, that he can’t quite remember how he got here in the first place and that should concern him._

_But in this moment, he_ wants _Jared with an intensity he’s never felt for anyone. And they need to have this out at some point, sometime soon, but right now all he has is firm skin and muscle under his fingers; lips tingling from the brush of teeth and tongue. Jared’s bulk pressing him back into the porch railing, thin sweatpants the only barrier between him and the unmistakable evidence that Jared is right there with him. He gasps a breath into Jared’s mouth and is rewarded with tightening fingers on his arms, Jared’s closeness and sheer size cocoons him in incredible warmth and his can’t imagine ever wanting to leave that embrace._

_Their kiss goes on, a wordless dance that is both familiar and new in its intensity and Jensen is just about to step it up another notch when the warmth increases noticeably, turning into a searing sensation on his left while the pressure lets up at the same time. He reluctantly separates his lips from Jared’s to look down on Jared’s hand gripping his forearm. What he sees takes a second to process from the utter outlandishness of it, but then the bottom falls out of his stomach with a nauseating swoop._

_The hand on his arm looks like it’s slowly smouldering, fingers starting to blacken were they connect to his skin, and he should be burning as well, but he only feels the same searing heat that just doesn’t touch him any deeper while it slowly burns Jared’s skin to ash. He feels a sound of pure anguish leave his lips more than he hears it, looking up sharply when Jared asks:  
“What is it, what’s wrong?” and meets Jared’s eye in an even more horrific sight. His left eye is equally lit up with the brimstone glow of a furnace, sinking deeper into his skull with every one of Jensen’s increasingly panicked breaths. _

_Jared keeps looking at him as if there’s nothing happening to_ him _though, even as his grip gets lighter on Jensen’s arm and cold fire continues to consume him. As his body disintegrates further, every trace of Jensen’s work burning out of him at the crawling, menacing pace of a ridge fire, Jared still tries to console him. Jensen wants to do something, to understand, to help, but he’s frozen in place, damned to watch Jared grow more agitated at his own distress and not the searing agony he doesn’t seem to be feeling at all._

_When the orange ember glow begins to creep over Jared’s chest towards where his heart and lungs are labouring with the assistance of Nano-technologically reconstructed muscle, Jensen is finally able to shake his rigour and scramble his fingers over Jared’s chest with a cry of impotent rage, trying and failing to figure out what is happening and how to stop it._

_He doesn’t get the chance to find out what happens to Jared once the crawling ember glow reaches those vital organs before his world tilts on its axis again._

~*~

Jensen jerks out of a disturbing mix of blissful domesticity and nightmare, sweat running into his eyes until he gets the wherewithal to flick it away with a shake of his head. His heart is racing fitfully, though the cobwebs lift enough for him to understand that what he saw just now must have been unreal, a spectre of the drugs in his system. And yet, there’s a primal kind of fear rooted deep in the realization of two fundamental things – intimacy and ruin – so close together in his head. It calls for some serious introspection, but blinking his eyes open slowly and recognizing a man looking at his watch before nodding to another, armed and burly, fella throws in stark contrast that the situation outside his head is much more pressing right now.  
“Yes, I think we’re just about on time to expect company, go make your rounds, check in with the perimeter crew.”

The man grunts and leaves through backdoor in the kitchen while the other one – Bakshi, the man who’s been holding him hostage, hot damn, what? – comes closer to look him in the eye.  
“Ah, welcome back to the land of the living, Dr. Ackles. I apologize for the rude awakening, but I had measures to take that I didn’t want you to be privy to.”  
“If you wanted to keep me out, you should have gotten better goons.”  
The unmistakable slide of a round being chambered in a gun follows and Jensen is beginning to hate that sound with a passion until he realizes that the voice belongs to Jared and the gun is being pointed right at Bakshi’s forehead from where Jared has materialized right in the middle of the den.  
Bakshi slowly lifts his hands in a mocking surrender while turning to Jensen with a patronizing wink.  
“See, I told you he couldn’t stay away. So, Mr. _Walker_ now that you’ve so kindly joined us, how about giving me my property?”  
“I couldn’t, even if I wanted to, since I have no idea how to get it out of my head.”  
“Oh, I am sure we can find a suitable method, after all, we have the expert right here.”  
The gun in Jared’s hand doesn’t waver for a second, but he looks over at Jensen with a very complicated set of emotions playing on his face.  
“Tell you what, it might not have gone according to plan, but since we’re here and I’ll still be able to deliver on schedule: you cooperate now and I’ll throw in your lives, for free, no hard feelings. We all get to walk away scot-free because I am just that nice.”

Jared snorts: “Yeah, you say that now, but who is going to be high on the CIA’s shitlist – again – for breaking into one of their fortresses and stealing their highly classified and frankly embarrassing secrets? I’ll give that a pass, thank you very much. The way I see it, with this code that some very influential people seem to want rather badly in _my_ head and my gun to _your_ head, my bargaining position is much better than that.”  
Jared is right and Bakshi knows it, proving the point by minutely clenching his jaw in frustration, the first small crack he has shown at all.  
It is quickly plastered over by a swaggering smile and a snide comment: “Well, you might have been able to slip through the net around the perimeter, neutralizing some sentries on the way in, but what are you going to do about the secondary team that’s completely surrounded us by now?”

Jensen draws a sharp breath, but Jared – actually smiles back, wolfish and confident.  
“Ah, but what made you think I came alone?”  
The sentence hangs in the air like a thunderclap, Bakshi’s face falling into a mask of utter rage.  
“Yes. Those men you’ve been stalling for? Ain’t coming. My friends from the Ecuadorian security services have something to prove. So, how about you stop talking, let yourself be arrested nice and easy and we all get out of this alive.”

Jensen would have fist-pumped if his wrists hadn’t been taped back to the armrests of his chair; as it is, he has to settle for enjoying Bakshi’s face changing colour from beet red to deathly pale in the span of seconds. The glee is short-lived, however, since a sharp whistle sounds in his left ear and before he can properly wonder about it, all the muscles in his body lock up and his nerves light up his brain with _hurt_. It’s more pain that he has ever experienced in his life, radiating outwards from that spot on his neck through all of his body and only the clenched muscles of his jaw keep his teeth pressed together and the scream inside.

It’s gone with the same immediacy as it came, leaving him panting; heart racing in an uneven rhythm and trying to unscramble his brain enough to understand what has happened. He doesn’t get the peace and quiet to do so, however, angry voices yelling all around him. He recognizes Jared’s smooth baritone demanding to know what someone did and a scattering of Spanish voices calling out from further away. The fog slowly lifts and Jensen feels his arms and legs still trembling from the aftershocks of what he realizes must have been the mother of all Tasers.

~*~

The shouting should be loud in Jared’s ears, but the only thing he hears as he looks at Jensen slumping over in his chair, head rolling heavily down, is the faint buzzing that whistled just before Jensen convulsed. Somehow Bakshi sent a current of electricity throw him that turned his face into a grimace of pain. Big, heaving breaths lift Jensen’s chest so Jared knows he’s alive at least, but he can’t see what caused the shock and his vision is going haywire from his own agitation. Miraculously, his hand is still completely steady, pointing the muzzle of his gun between Bakshi’s eyes without faltering. It’s only when the haze clears a bit that he realizes some of the shouting is his, throwing curses into Bakshi’s smirking face of how he wants to put a bullet between his eyes, badly.

He doesn’t know whether whatever device Bakshi is using operates on some kind of dead man’s switch, so he can’t risk harming the man until his has a clearer picture. He makes himself take a deep breath, settle down to give the system a chance to recalibrate, for if he ever needed his extra-human capabilities to assess a situation, it’s now. Jared scowls when his vision finally stops being inundated by a jumble of non-essential information and Bakshi’s smug face slips back into focus.  
“Did you really think I spend all my chips so easily?”  
Jared desperately wants to ask Jensen how he’s doing, but he can’t open his flank like that. He needs to keep Bakshi talking to figure out how he’s tasing Jensen without even touching him. He has spotted a small remote device Bakshi’s had concealed in his hand, but can’t make out how that connects to Jensen.

“And here I thought you actually had an interest in getting that code, but apparently not, if you’re willing to electrocute the brain that is the only one who can get you there.”  
Jared isn’t really afraid for himself anymore; that virus became obsolete the moment he became the only one with a complete copy of the algorithm outside of the CIA’s secure base. But while Jensen is the person who can undoubtedly get to it the fastest and safest if he wants to, Jared’s under no illusion that given enough time and opportunity, someone will be able to crack the code if they get to him, and then it’s game over.  
“If you hadn’t put me in an untenable position, I wouldn’t have had to resort to such distasteful measures. But you were right, this a game of leverage, and I’m never without. Truly, you surprised me by managing to find capable allies on the way here, kudos to you, but so long as my little device is attached to our good doctor, I have the power to make him dance…”, he brushes his thumb lightly over the side of the remote and Jensen starts trembling in his chair, muscles contracting involuntarily, “…or hurt…”, his finger slides further down the remote and this time, Jensen lets out a cry of pain, head thrown back, neck straining against the invisible current.

“Don’t!” is out before Jared can push it down, but in the same moment, he finally sees it, a silvery disk maybe an inch wide gleaming at the side of Jensen’s neck just under his left ear. Bakshi pouts like a toddler told no, but his finger slides back up and Jensen is released, shoulders sloping down and his head swinging to the side to reveal the disk fully, stuck to his neck with little hooks that look like they’re anchored right into his skin, securing it firmly in place. Jared flexes his fingers around the grip of his gun, a habitual reaction since the skin of his right hand doesn’t exactly sweat anymore.  
“Jay,… s’OK, don’t…”  
Jensen’s head rolls back up and it clearly cost him an effort to straighten up. His breath is rapid, sweat and dried blood running down the side of his face, and his eyes are only half open, but locked onto Jared all the same with unwavering intensity.  
In this moment, defiant, strong, vulnerable, he is the most beautiful thing Jared has ever seen.  
Through his blue edged vision, Jared’s focus narrows onto that disk protruding just a little from Jensen’s neck and a mad sliver of a plan stirs in his head.

~*~

Jensen is trying to unscramble his brain from another bout of electricity while he comes to terms with giving up, giving Bakshi what he wants and relying on a stroke of fate whether he makes it out the other side, since he’s ready, truly, deeply ready to have this over with. Before he can articulate any of that however, he looks at Jared and see something rippling over his face, a glint in his eye that gets the bells ringing double-time in Jensen’s head.  
“Are we going to keep standing around or getting down to business now after all?”  
Bakshi gestures with the remote in his hand towards Jensen and Jared snaps: “Do. Not. Move.”  
He’s turned to speak in Bakshi’s direction, but his eyes are fixed on Jensen with a single-minded focus and Jensen realizes after a beat that is almost too long that the words are aimed at him just the same. He instinctively holds his breath, eyes deeply locked with Jared’s, willing even the residual tremor in his muscles to still.

Bakshi takes another breath, no doubt to let loose a new taunt, but before he gets anywhere with it, a shot rings out.  
Everything is still as the echo fades.  
Jensen’s mind reels in the wake of another near death experience since the bullet whistled past not an inch from his skin, the heat leaving an imprint under his ear as the shivers of the shattered screen behind him slowly trickle down his neck. He looks at Jared down the muzzle of his gun, his partner’s eyes wide and his face a mask of determination and fear. Jensen starts breathing again with euphoric panic, a laugh inexplicably bubbling up his throat, which breaks the spell.

Jared shudders, quickly drops his gun hand and in the same fluid motion takes a step towards Bakshi to sock him in the jaw with a powerful left hook. The man drops like a brick, out cold in a second, and Jensen is pretty sure he heard the crunch of bone upon impact. That laugh really wants out now as he imagines Bakshi isn’t going to be able to use that damn silver tongue anytime soon to cause any more grief.

Suddenly, the room is awash with heavily armed men, although the way Jared pays them no mind at all tells Jensen they’re friendlies. He watches Jared drop the gun unceremoniously to the floor and incongruously thinks “gun safety” in the moment when strong arms grab him and drag him forward, rolling chair and all. Jared whips off his jacket, bunching it up and pushing it against Jensen’s neck, where he just now feels the wetness trickling from around the shattered pieces of whatever contraption was stuck there causing him such pain only seconds ago. The fear in Jared’s eyes is deep and guilty and Jensen knows he’s fine with that dreamy certainty of the fortuitously living, but that doesn’t seem to register with Jared.

He realizes Jared’s babbling even though he can’t parse a word of it right now, but the overwhelming urge to touch, to reassure himself with simple physical contact draws him forward until his forehead bumps gently into Jared’s. They lock eyes and with no distractions for a moment, Jared stills and suddenly there’s room to breathe again. Something uncoils inside of him, shoulders dropping with both exhaustion and relief.  
“I’m fine, Jared.”  
“No, you’re not.”  
“Semantics. I’ll _be_ fine then.”  
Jared snorts, but there is wetness in the corner of his eyes.  
“Remember how I told you I’d filled my quota of life-threatening ambushes for a year?”  
Jensen scoffs: “Psssht, you were talking about grenade launchers. Nobody said anything about cyberattacks and electrocution. Now, mind cutting me loose so I can actually feel my fingers again?”

Jared calls out to one of the soldiers who hands him a knife and makes quick work of the duct-tape securing Jensen to the chair. He rubs his wrists, hissing at the stabbing pain of the circulation returning to his hands and watches as the soldiers truss up Bakshi securely and prepare to transport him to – he doesn’t actually know where, but he hopes it’s got bars on the windows.  
“Who are even your happy helpers?”  
“The finest of Ecuador’s diplomatic security force. Ambassador Paredes owed me a favour after all.”  
“Oh, well, that’s rather neat then.”  
“Hmhmm, and he’s extending an invitation to us, to stay the embassy and to… mediate so we can sort out our disagreement with the US government.”  
“Is that so? Well, I think there’s a good chance they’ll look the other way on those few million bucks worth of tech inside you, if we agree to scrub that piece of code and forget we ever saw that set up which the intelligences services use to not only monitor the global black market but also likely to direct those resources if they need to.”  
“Let’s take that bridge when we come to it, alright? Think you can stand up?”

“Yes of course I can stand up, what do you…” Jensen uses Jared’s grip as a lever and the way vertigo makes his head spin as soon as he’s upright tells him that he might have been a tad optimistic about that.  
“Easy, easy, we have an ambulance on stand by and the EMTs will want to check you over – it’s also our ride to the embassy to make sure no one keeps us up. We should get a gurney.”  
“Don’t be ridiculous. I just need a moment,” Jensen steadies himself on Jared and takes a look around at the hustle and bustle and notices: “Wait, where’s the hacker chick?”  
Jared frowns in confusion for a moment and then scans the room rapidly. There’s no evidence of the computer expert Bakshi had brought with him.  
“I don’t know, I guess she must have bailed…”  
“…during your little Mexican standoff. I swear those fucking codes get taken out of your head as soon as I get my hands on a computer, that patch needs to get _gone_. And also, don’t think I don’t realize you almost shot me, we’re going to talk about that.”  
“I didn’t almost shoot you, I very precisely shot something attached to you aided by the calculations of the missile guiding system you put in my head. It was a calculated risk.”  
Jared’s tone has the same teasing quality of their regular banter, but Jensen sees in his face that he touched a nerve. It’s also something they’ll have to deal with together, but for the moment humour is the only way he can address it.  
“Yeah, and it filled my quota of being near any kind of ballistic weapons for the next ten years. We’re so taking a break after this is over. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

With his arm slung over Jared’s shoulder he slowly walks out, but pauses in the doorway for a moment, choked up as soon as he sees the beach over the railing of their veranda, remembering the faded imagine from his drug induced hallucination as well as the fact that he counted on never actually seeing the outside of their cabin – or Jared – again.  
“Thank you for coming back for me, even though you should have run.”  
Jared turns to him and studies his face for a moment before answering: “Always.”  
There is a weight to the word, a whole conversation playing out in it that they really ought to have, yet, Jensen realizes, maybe they don’t need actually to.  
He doesn’t only trust Jared with his life, but his heart and he knows now the same is true in return.  
In truth, that’s all said, right there.

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, what a ride, I write this in the process of posting after the very last editing pass and reading the story in full again, I have to say, it was quite the experience. I struggled with this for so long, trying to finish it always, but never being able to nail down the plot in a satisfactory way and entering into this years bigbang and really sticking to my goal of writing (just a little bit) every day helped me so much, not only with this tale but also as a writer in general to get back into the groove and to realize that it is true - to be a writer, you need to do one thing: write. So I hope to keep up the strides, and be able to publish more frequently in the future, and I thank everyone who participated in this journey, prompting for charity, waiting patiently, impatiently, cheerleading, arting, editing, I love you guys, for there's no other feeling like it.  
> Hope you enjoyed, and loved to have you here!


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